


Project G.A.L.R.A.

by GemmaRose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Aromantic, Aromantic Hunk (Voltron), Bilingual Character(s), Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Male Character, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Boys Kissing, Cannibalism, Codenames, Communication, Concussions, Couch Cuddles, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discussion of Cannibalism, First Aid, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Grief/Mourning, Haircuts, Hugs, I mean this is a zombie au of course there's blood and gore and violence, I'll tag it to be safe, Illnesses, Illustrated, Injury, Jealousy, Katana, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Leaving Home, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Mentions of attempted suicide, Morning Cuddles, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Queerplatonic Crush, Queerplatonic Hunk/Lance (Voltron), Queerplatonic Relationships, Returning Home, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Sick Character, Sleepy Cuddles, Sniper Lance (Voltron), Swords, Terminal Illnesses, Texan Keith (Voltron), Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, better safe than sorry, consensual cannibalism, does killing zombies count as murder?, does zombies eating humans count?, looks like that Murder tag was justified after all lol, should I have added that tag earlier?, w/e im tagging it anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 44,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Keith has been prepared for the apocalypse for a long time, so when it finally reaches his college campus he knows what to do. Get someone trustworthy to watch his back, grab something to defend himself with, and find a place to weather the storm. Making friends was never supposed to be part of the equation.Beta'd byTori, with translations courtesy ofNico’s Smiles.





	1. Chapter 1

Keith sighed, tapping the back end of his pen against his notebook. The professor was on another tangent, talking about how anyone with an ounce of engineering sense could see that the barricades being used around outbreak sites had been doomed from the start. Honestly, Keith kinda agreed, but he wasn’t racking up several thousand dollars a year in student loans to discuss current events. He could do that anywhere with an internet connection.

A loud thump from the hallway made the professor stop talking, and Keith sat up straighter in his seat. Now that Mr. Shain was no longer ranting about the structural integrity of industrial chain link fences, he could hear a commotion outside. Keith stuffed his notebook in his bag, and pulled out his knife. As weapons went it wasn’t great, but it was better than trying to use a chair or something, especially since this class was on the fourth floor of the building.

“Dude, what the fuck?” the big guy sitting across the aisle yelped, drawing every eye to him as he swung his backpack up onto his left shoulder. Unfortunately, this meant the professor wasn’t looking when he opened the door. Keith was, though, and his heart sped up at the sight. Jaundiced eyes and heavily bruised skin, the symptoms everyone with a brain was supposed to be on watch for.

Someone in one of the first rows screamed, and just like that it was pandemonium. Strategically it would’ve been best to shut the door and pick the infected off as they came, but it was too late for that. Three galra were already inside the room, and Keith didn’t doubt that his classmates’ screams would draw more by the second. But how to get past them?

“Big guy!” he yelled, stepping out into the aisle and pulling the dark skinned boy to his feet from where he’d curled up in fear. “You any good at taking a hit?”

“Um, a little?” he whimpered. Keith gritted his teeth. It would have to be good enough.

“We’re getting out of here. You’re my battering ram.” he grabbed the guy’s backpack and shoved it into his arms. “Capische?”

The big guy nodded, and Keith stepped back to drag him into the aisle. “We shoot for the far stairs. Central ones are going to be clogged.”

The big guy nodded, and squared his jaw. “Got it.” he turned to face down the stairs to the front of the room, and let out one of the best battle cries Keith had ever heard before charging. Keith scrambled after him, swinging his backpack like a particularly unwieldy bludgeon at galra which managed to avoid being bowled over, and together they made it into the stairwell. It stank of blood and shit, and he gagged. All the books and forums in the world hadn’t prepared him for this. In front of him, his classmate-turned-battering-ram doubled over and lost his lunch.

“C’mon, we can’t stop here.” Keith said quickly, grabbing the larger boy’s wrist and pulling him around the puddle of puke. The infected behind them were probably getting back up by now, and he really didn’t want to join their ranks.

“Where are we even going?” his classmate asked, and Keith squared his shoulders. Survive now, freak out about the dead bodies later.

“My dorm.” he said with all the confidence he could muster. “I’ve got shit to keep us both alive, but you have to _move_.” he gave the guy a shove, and that seemed to be all he needed to start going again. The stairs were trickier than the hallway had been, the flats of too many steps slick with blood, but at least he’d been right about them being less crowded. A few galra with bashed-in skulls proved that others had gotten the same idea, and Keith hoped they were okay.

The little foyer-like area at the base of the stairs was thankfully deserted, and Keith grabbed the back of his classmate’s shirt to stop him from barging outside. “Wait.” he hissed, heels skidding on the tile as he was dragged towards the exit.

“What happened to ‘move’?” the larger boy hissed back, the sharp edge of panic clearly audible in his voice.

“If we bust out of here screaming, we’ll draw the galra right to us.” Keith snapped, releasing his classmate’s shirt. “Everything I’ve seen online suggests they’re attracted to sound more than anything else.”

“Oh god, you’re a weirdo. Why am I going along with this?”

“Because I’m a _living_ weirdo, and you don’t want to become a galra?” Keith offered. “If we’re smart about this, we can get past any infected wandering around outside without a fight. Idunno about you, but I’m not exactly armed for the apocalypse.” he held up his backpack and knife, and his classmate laughed.

“Oh man, you’re nuts.”

Keith scowled. “You don’t have to come with me, you know.” he said sharply, pushing past his classmate and slipping out the door. There weren’t any galra in sight, but this building was pretty much on the edge of campus. His dorm wasn’t far, but it was towards the busier parts of the college. The door opened and shut behind him, and his scaredy-cat classmate crept over to him with the most exaggerated tip-toe Keith had ever seen outside of old Saturday morning cartoons. Keith raised an eyebrow.

“You’re still nuts, but there are _zombies_ in there!” his classmate hissed. Keith rolled his eyes. In all likelihood, there were more galra out here than in the building they’d just left.

“Galra.” he said simply, starting towards his dorm building.

“What?”

“They’re called galra.” Keith held up a hand to forestall his classmate’s response, and gestured for the big guy to follow him towards the building’s wall. There was a massive knot of the things around the corner, and from the sounds Keith would guess... well, he wasn’t going to think about it too hard. “We’re gonna have to run for it. Think you can make it to Hobson?”

“Honestly, I think I’ve got enough adrenaline in me to lift a car.” his classmate chuckled humorlessly.

“Stay close.” Keith tightened his grip on his knife, and bolted. His classmate’s heavy footsteps were right on his heels, and they hadn’t even made the next building before something _screamed_. It wasn’t a human sound, despite the fact that it _must_ have come from a human throat, and Keith firmly pushed that thought out of his head. Run now, panic later. His dorm was the oldest building on campus, which had been a source of vexation for him from the day he moved in but now just might save his life. Old building meant solid doors, solid doors meant more time to breathe before the galra got at him.

He poured on the speed, and his classmate’s heavy breaths behind him were followed closely by the shrieking of a mob of infected former students and townies. Keith slashed a galra’s hand as it reached for him, and knocked another aside with his backpack. The ground was littered with bodies, the air almost as rancid as the staircase, and Keith’s arms were aching from swinging around his backpack like a weapon but he didn’t slow down. His classmate was whimpering behind him, and they had almost made it to the stairs when the big guy let out a scream of pain.

“Let go!” he yelled as Keith spun on the ball of his foot. His backpack swung out like a particularly unwieldy mace, and smashed into the skull of the galra which had outstripped the horde and latched onto his classmate’s arm teeth-first. It recoiled, shrieking, and Keith darted forward to grab his classmate by the shirt.

“Run!” he shouted over the howling mob, and a good hard yank was all it took to get the big guy moving again. The door unlocked when he slammed his id against the pad, and Keith definitely did not scream in fear when a bruised-purple hand curled around the old wood before it could swing shut. “Pull, pull!” he yelled, planting his foot against the doorframe and putting his entire body weight into the task. It wasn’t working, of course it wasn’t working, Project G.A.L.R.A. had been intended to make super-soldiers, of course the galra were stronger than normal humans.

“Oh my god there’s another one!” his classmate screamed, and Keith released the handle to stab at the hand reaching for his foot on the wall. A few vicious swings had it retreating, and another few stabs were enough to make the grasping hand let go, now minus a few fingers. The door slammed shut, and Keith staggered back as his classmate fell over. For a few long seconds they stared at the shut door, the only sounds in the room their harsh breaths and the muffled inhuman screams from outside.

“Think there’s any more zombies in here?” his classmate asked quietly, looking over his shoulder.

Keith shook his head. “Nobody spends time in here if they can help it.” he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to remember everything he’d read about preparing for this kind of apocalypse. First things first, he’d have to convince his classmate to stick around and not stab him in the back later. Then they had to get away from the city, out into less-populated areas where there wouldn’t be as many galra to worry about. That would be tricky, there were suburbs for hours even in a car, and the highways would be clogged all to hell. Keith ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face.

“I’m Hunk, by the way. Hunk Pelekai.”

Keith turned his head to look at his classmate, and found a hand dangerously close to being in his personal space. “Keith Kogane.” he replied, shaking Hunk’s extended hand. It was wet, and kinda sticky. Oh, yeah, they were both covered in blood. He grimaced and looked at the smears of red which decorated his palm. “Let’s get you to the bathroom. I can grab the first aid kit from my room while you wash up.”

“First aid?” Hunk frowned.

“Y’know, for your arm?” Keith gestured towards the bloody mark high on his classmate’s sleeve, then wiped his hand on his jeans and stood up.

“Oh shit, it got me?” Hunk yelped, staring at the injury like he’d only just noticed it. Hell, with all the screaming and adrenaline and stuff, maybe he had.

“Yeah. So get off your ass and follow me.” he made a beckoning gesture, and started towards the stairs. Hunk followed in a hurry, heavy footsteps loud on the old floors of the empty hallway, and Keith lead the way to the bathroom that had showers attached. “I’ll be back before the hot water kicks in.” he assured Hunk before stepping back into the hallway and heading for his room.

The first aid kit was right where he’d left it, tucked under the foot of his bed, and he rifled through it quickly to double check that he had what he needed. Disinfectant, gauze pads, cotton bandages, medical tape, oh wow he even had a tourniquet. More than enough to patch up Hunk’s arm. He flipped the kit’s latches shut again, grabbed the box by its handle, and headed back to the bathroom.

Hunk was holding one arm under the shower’s spray, clutching his shirt in the other hand to keep it out of the likely frigid water. It was running more or less clear as it swirled around the drain, which Keith could only assume was a good sign. He rapped on the door, and Hunk startled.

“Oh man, I thought you were a zombie or something.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with his wet hand. A second later he shivered, probably from water dripping down his back. “Is that your first aid kit?”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded. “Come on over to the sink, the light’s less awful over there.”

Hunk followed him into the other half of the bathroom, and held his arm out so Keith could get a good look at the wound.

“It looks pretty clean.” he said after a moment. “But I’ll put this stuff on it just in case.” he pulled out the tube, and squeezed a liberal amount of its contents out onto Hunk’s skin. The larger boy whimpered, and Keith held his arm firmly at the elbow to stop him from flinching away. “Hold still, you big baby.” he huffed, rubbing the gel over where Hunk’s skin was broken.

“But it huuurts.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “It’ll hurt worse if it gets infected, so shut up and let me get the bandages on.” he capped the disinfectant, tossed it back in the box, and picked up the gauze pads. They stuck to Hunk’s skin, damp as it was with cool water and clear gel, and he used an extra one to dry off the skin around where he needed to tape down one end of the bandage. The wrap, when it was done, was perhaps a bit bulkier than was strictly necessary. But it would stay in place until it needed changing, which would be, uh, probably soon. Maybe tomorrow? Shit, of all the times to be stuck in a building without functioning wifi.

Hunk stayed still even as Keith was putting away the bandages and gauze, and when Keith snapped the first aid kit’s latches shut he still hadn’t moved. Keith sighed, and snapped his fingers in front of his classmate’s face. “Are you going to stay in here all day, or are we going to head to my room and plan?”

“Plan?” Hunk’s voice squeaked, and Keith noticed that the larger boy was on the verge of tears. “I’m going to turn into a zombie, and you want to make _plans_?!”

Keith couldn’t help it, he rolled his eyes. “They’re not zombies, moron.” he huffed, lifting the box from the bathroom counter. “They’re galra. And anyways the chances of contracting an infection from a bite wound are, like, stupid small. Under twenty percent.”

“Wha- how do you even know that?” Hunk’s face scrunched up in an incredulous frown.

“Internet.” Keith shrugged, walking towards the door. “Now are you following me or not?”

“Following, I’m following.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keith dropped his backpack on the floor, and flopped onto his bed with a groan. Now that the adrenaline was finally fading, his whole body _ached_. The stench of death clung to the inside of his nose, despite the offensively strong air freshener his roommate had bought last week, and he felt grossly sticky all over from a combination of sweat and blood. Jesus fuck, he’d actually stabbed somebody. He’d swung his knife, and sunk the blade into living flesh. Or, well, pseudo-living flesh, since galra were technically human corpses reanimated by the unpronounceable virus Project G.A.L.R.A. had created.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Hunk whimpered.

“Then go back to the bathroom.” Keith said, forcing down his own rising nausea and panic and lifting his head from his pillow. “The windows here don’t open wide enough to get your head out.”

Hunk’s eyes widened at that, and he glanced between the windows and door a few times before curling his legs up to his chest. “Actually, I think I’ll be fine.” he squeaked, shaking like a leaf.

He was sitting on Gerald’s bed, which Keith’s neat freak roomie would flip out over, but honestly Keith didn’t have enough energy to give a fuck at the moment. He turned onto his side to face Hunk, and dropped his head onto his pillow again. “We need to get out of town.” he said after a moment of silence. “There are too many galra here, and not enough resources.”

Hunk stared at him, eyes squinting a little bit. “We were just almost eaten by zombies, and you’re talking about going back out there?”

“They’re not zombies, they’re galra.” Keith corrected.

“I’m sorry, did we not see the same things when we were _running for our lives_ from the _horde of zombies_?”

“Zombies are corpses raised by necromantic magic.” Keith frowned, sitting up and crossing his legs. “Magic isn’t real, ergo, those things that tried to eat us outside aren’t zombies.”

“Necro-” Hunk sighed and shook his head. “Whatever. I’ll stop calling them zombies when it stops feeling like we just walked through an episode of The Walking Dead.”

“Walking Dead doesn’t have zombies either.” Keith pointed out. “They’ve got walkers.”

“Oh my god!” Hunk threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t believe the world is ending, and I’ve got _you_ for company.”

Keith straightened up, moving his hands to his ankles. “You’re staying?” he asked, not quite believing what he’d heard. He’d expected he would have to argue Hunk into travelling with him, but the guy was saying it like a foregone conclusion. Keith knew he wasn’t the easiest person to be around, and he’d only just learnt the guy’s name. Why would anyone who’d only known him for such a short period of time willingly endure his company?

“Well, yeah.” Hunk frowned. “You may be a lil bit crazy, but you’ve got a first aid kit and apparently a plan, which is more than what I’ve got.”

“Oh.” was all Keith could think to say in response. “Well, uh...” he winced, and looked down at the floor between the beds. “I don’t have that much of a plan, really.” 

“Well how much of a plan _do_ you have?” Hunk asked, crossing his arms.

“Just, find someone to watch my back and get out to the countryside. Smaller towns mean fewer zombies, and a farming community is more likely to be self-sustainable once everything’s gone completely to shit.”

“You spent a lot of time thinking about this, didn’t you.” Hunk said flatly. Keith shrugged.

“Capitalism was bound to self-destruct eventually.”

Hunk chuckled and leaned back, uncrossing his arms to rest his weight on his hands. “You’re one of those guys?”

“Just because the military fucked society sideways with a cactus before capitalism hit the tipping point doesn’t mean I was wrong.” Keith pointed out. Hunk snorted, then laughed, then fell onto his back and kept laughing, clutching at his stomach. Keith scowled. “I wasn’t.” he insisted, and Hunk just laughed harder.

“With a cactus.” he gasped after a solid minute of failing to muffle his giggles.

“With a cactus.” Keith nodded, setting Hunk off on another round of laughter. Keith grinned, and leaned sideways until he fell onto his mattress. They’d have to figure out sleeping arrangements later, once Gerald got back, but right now he was crashing hard. The stench of death still clung to his clothing and the inside of his nose, but he was starting to get used to it already. That thought should probably be a little bit alarming, that he could get used to something like that, but he was too tired to care right now.

“Wake me up when Gerald gets back.” he said as clearly as he could manage, hooking the toe of one of his shoes under his blanket where it was crumpled at the foot of the bed and pulling it up until it at least mostly covered him. Sleep came blissfully quickly.

\---

“Keith? Hey, Keith, are you awake?”

Keith groaned and buried his face deeper in his pillow. His phone was still in his hoodie pocket, digging into his pelvis uncomfortably, and he pulled it out blindly with his left hand. Turning onto his side, he pitched it at Gerald’s bed, trusting the military-grade protective case to do its job. “I am now.” he grumbled, squinting open his eyes. Oh, that wasn’t Gerald. Keith squinted at the large form on Gerald’s bed for a long few seconds before he matched a name to the face. Hunk, from his engineering class.

Right, galra on campus, running, screaming, stabbing... Keith groaned and sat up, grinding the heel of one hand against his eyelid. “How long was I out?” he grumbled. It couldn’t’ve been long, considering how groggy he still was. Maybe an hour?

“All night?” Hunk frowned. “I fell asleep before your roomie got back, I guess.”

Keith sighed and rubbed at his other eye, forcing himself to full alertness. If Gerald hadn’t come back, he was probably dead. That, actually didn’t change anything. Keith hadn’t been planning to bring his borderline-germophobic roommate along in the first place. Gerald was barely cut out for normal life, there was no way Keith was dragging his dead weight through the goddamn apocalypse. Hunk on the other hand... Hunk had already proven himself useful, and he’d talked about them partnering up like it was a foregone conclusion.

“That’s fine.” he lifted his head. “He would’ve just slowed us down.”

“Harsh.” Hunk grimaced.

“But true.” Keith swung his legs out of bed and stood, heading for his desk. His computer would be dead weight, but the maps in the drawers would be useful. He grabbed them, a few books from his single shelf on the bookcase, and another two from Gerald’s collection. Apparently, having an English major for a roomie could actually be helpful. Who knew? The books he piled on his bed by his bag, dropping the maps beside them. Those, a few changes of clothes, some food... he could tie his pillow and blanket to the outside of his backpack, but the rest had to fit inside.

“Um, what are you doing?” Hunk asked as Keith began pulling clothes from his dresser drawers. It was almost summer, but exposed skin meant more places for the galra to get their teeth into him if he fucked up, so jeans it was. Three pairs, including the ones he was wearing, some T-shirts, and his nice jacket. It was sturdy, and might give him that extra half a second to clock a galra in the face if it went for his arm.

“Hello? Keith?” Hunk waved a hand vaguely in his direction as Keith tossed his clothes on the bed and went back for socks and underwear. He could afford to pack a few more pairs of those, since they’d fit in his bag’s smallest compartments. There was still the matter of food, though. He didn’t have much in his room, just a few bags of trail mix and half a pack of protein bars. That meant braving either the dining hall or a local grocery store, and doing it today.

“Keith!” Hunk grabbed his arm as he reached for a pair of socks to roll one of his jeans and shirts, and Keith looked at him blankly.

“What?”

“What are you doing?” Hunk released his arm. Keith looked back at his clothes.

“Packing.” he answered simply, rolling his clothing into as compact a bundle as he could make it. “We’ll have to walk out of here, or bike. That means only bringing what we can carry.” he stuffed the first roll into his bag’s thinner full size compartment, and started making the second one. “You should empty your bag, we can raid a Target or something and get you spare clothes later.”

“How are you so calm?” Hunk asked, his voice shaky. Keith turned, and realized his classmate had taken a step back. He was clutching the bandages on his arm, where the galra had bitten him yesterday.

Keith shrugged, tugged the cuffs of his socks up over his jeans, and tucked that roll in next to the other.

“I mean, I’m freaking out. How are you not freaking out? I may be turning into a zombie but when I turn you’re the one who’ll have to deal with me. Doesn’t that scare you even a little?”

Keith rolled his eyes at the rambling, and turned around with a handful of socks. “One, you’re more likely to get _an_ infection from a bite wound than to contract the Project G.A.L.R.A. virus from exposure to infected saliva.” he looked Hunk dead in the eyes, and pointed a sock at the larger boy with as much seriousness as he could muster. “Two, if you _do_ turn into a galra, I’ll personally cut off your head before you can reanimate. Happy?”

“No.” Hunk huffed, shoulders hunching up towards his ears and chin dropping towards his chest. “But, thanks.” he offered up a shy smile, and Keith turned to stuff the socks into a smaller compartment of his bag. After two pairs, though, he paused and pulled them out. Books first. He’d gotten most of the socks and underwear jammed in when Hunk spoke again.

“So, uh, did you have any specific small town in mind?”

Keith shrugged. “Not really. Even if I did, there’s no guarantee that whatever place I chose would still be standing by the time we got there, let alone inhabited.”

“Let’s go to Evans.”

Keith turned around to look at Hunk. “Evans?”

“My hometown. There’s only, like, five families there.”

Keith considered it for a second. A small community like he was looking for would likely be tight-knit, especially now that the world as they knew it was ending. They’d be super unlikely to trust any outsiders, especially a pair of non-white college age boys. But if he had someone from the community who was willing to vouch for him... “Sure. How far away do you live?”

“That’s the problem.” Hunk grimaced. “I’m from Arkansas.”

Keith wasn’t particularly good at geography, but he knew that Arkansas was closer to Texas than Massachusetts, and that it was a really long distance to travel for school. “Why are you _here_?”

“It’s not like Arkansas has any universities with great programs in marine biology.” Hunk huffed, crossing his arms.

“Hey, whatever.” Keith raised his hands briefly before unzipping and shucking off his hoodie. He pitched it at his hamper, then stripped off his shirt and flung that into the bin as well. Sure, his jacket was gonna get blood on it sooner than later, but that didn’t mean he had to get the gross, congealed shit on the inside right off the bat. His jeans were, well, the blood stains would never come out but the pockets were still intact so he’d keep them on. “Just, y’know, it’s gonna take for fucking ever to walk all the way there.”

“Wait, you’re really okay with hoofing it halfway across the country in the middle of the zombie apocalypse?” Hunk frowned.

“Galra, but yeah.” Keith shrugged, grabbing his nice leather jacket from where it hung over the back of his desk chair. He slid his arms through the sleeves, and took a moment to smile into the popped collar. If Hunk’s family wasn’t willing to let him stay, maybe he’d try to track down the foster brother who bought this for him. “I mean, cars are loud and gas stations aren’t gonna be working, so we’ll be doing a lot of walking no matter what.” he turned back to his bed, considered the sheets for a minute, and added a sleeping bag to his mental shopping list. Or, well, technically looting list since he wasn’t going to be paying for any of it.

“Let’s get going.” he said, zipping his bag shut and slinging it over his shoulders. It was a bit bulky, but not enough to slow him down. “I don’t know how much longer the electricity will be on, and rummaging through a superstore in the dark doesn’t sound like fun.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that.” Hunk shivered, standing from Gerald’s bed. Keith gave his room one last cursory look, and his eyes landed on his knife. He grabbed it off the bed, and tucked it in his backpack’s side pouch. He’d need to get a sheath for it which could hang from a belt. And a belt to hang it from. Damn, the looting list just kept getting bigger, didn’t it? “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Hunk grinned queasily. Keith opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact I found out while writing this chapter: Lance’s jeans are the only pants with a visible fly in the main outfits. Also, from examination of Keith’s clothes... I think he’s wearing yoga pants. Looking at the waistband it’s that or leggings, and leggings wouldn’t have those weird rectangle things on the sides.
> 
> Art by [lavndr](http://lavndr.tumblr.com/post/157483075209/my-piece-for-the-voltronbigbang-my-fic-was) on tumblr. You guys should totally go check out their blog, it’s quality af.


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t wanna move for fifteen hours.” Hunk groaned, sitting down heavily against the newly barricaded train station door.

“Tell me about it.” Keith huffed, doubled over with his hands on his knees. He straightened up after a moment, and looked at Hunk with something close to admiration. “I can’t believe you fucking deadlifted that train card machine.”

“Same.” Hunk chuckled, letting his head fall back against the makeshift barricade. Moving it away from the door in the morning would be a pain, but he could do it. Or, well, _they_ could do it. Keith was deceptively strong for his size.

“Alright.” Keith dusted off his jacket, grimacing when his fingers came away tinged red-brown with zombie blood. “I’ll check the bathrooms for galra. If you hear screaming-”

“I’ll back you up.” Hunk said, cutting off whatever Keith had been about to say. “Buddy system only works if we stick together, right?” he pushed himself to his feet, and Keith tossed him the baseball bat he’d picked up at the Target they raided earlier.

“What happened to not moving for fifteen hours?” he teased, picking up his crowbar and twirling it to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re the guy with the maps, aren’t you?” Hunk asked rhetorically, starting towards the men’s room. The bathrooms here were pretty damn small, just a few stalls each, and Hunk clutched his bat with both hands as Keith prodded each door open. They were both empty, thank god, and after they washed their hands Keith tossed him some food. Keith didn’t say anything as he changed the bandage on Hunk’s arm, or as they bunked down in their technically-stolen sleeping bags.

Despite the occasional zombie sound from outside, Hunk fell asleep quickly.

\---

Keith held up his left hand in a fist, and Hunk froze. Keith lowered his hand after a long few seconds, and they started forwards again. It had been like this for the past three days, walking on the tracks at a decent clip between stations and then slowing to a crawl as they approached and passed the platforms. He had to admit, though, he never would’ve thought of using the rail lines. Which was kinda weird, since he usually got to school by Amtrak. Then again, he had to change trains twice to get here and even not counting the wait time between trains it was over a day of travel. Plus, train lines tended to go through big cities, which meant more zombies, and how could Keith be sure that they wouldn’t go to grade-level at any point, or run into a crashed train full of zombies? This was a terrible plan, they were going to get eaten and he’d never see his mom again and-

“We’re getting off here.” Keith said, hopping up the employee-only stairs that lead up to the platform.

“What?” Hunk blinked, following his friend’s lead and ascending to a more familiar vantage point.

“After this, the tracks go to grade level.” Keith said, his tone flat and uninterested. “And they start curving north. We’re headed south, aren’t we?”

“Yes? I mean, yeah! Yeah, Arkansas is south of here.” he chuckled nervously, fiddling with the black tape wrapping Keith had put on the handle of his baseball bat for him. All it needed was some nails hammered through it, or barbed wire wrapped around it, and it would look like something straight out of a TV show.

Keith swung his crowbar lazily as he started down the stairs, descending into deep shadows. “Guard up.” he breathed, and Hunk raised his bat. It was dark at the bottom of the stairs, but that didn’t mean it was empty. There could be zombies lurking in the gloom, waiting for unwary humans to stumble into their waiting jaws. There could also be survivors, but his cousin Rax had made him watch enough zombie movies and episodes of Walking Dead to know that not all survivors would be friendly.

“Who’s there?” called a male voice from below.

Hunk immediately threw his hands up, holding his bat loosely. “We’re not looking for a fight.” he said quickly. “Just need to get back to street level.”

“Hunk.” Keith hissed, and Hunk kicked him gently in the back of the leg. He’d sat across the aisle from Keith long enough to get the impression that his new friend’s social skills were pretty pathetic, and the past few days had confirmed that he just had no clue how to act with people.

“Why should we believe you?” a female voice asked.

“I’ll roll my bat down the stairs to you.” Hunk said, lowering his hand holding the bat slowly. “And my buddy here will stick his crowbar in my pack. Is that okay?”

The two voices whispered to each other for a few seconds, then a bright beam of light shone in Hunk’s face. He flinched, closing his eyes, and brought his free arm up to shield his face. The female stranger muttered a curse, and the beam moved away from him. “They’re just kids, Ro.”

“Excuse you.” Keith muttered, eyes shielded from the flashlight’s glare. “I’m a goddamn adult.”

“How old?” the male stranger challenged.

“Eighteen.”

“Still a kid.”

“Fuck you.” Keith crossed his arms. One of the strangers laughed, and then the one holding the flashlight pointed it at herself. Her skin was dark, her hair pulled into four thick twists like double pigtails, and she seemed to be wearing a pair of cheery yellow mechanic’s overalls under a jean jacket with freaking shoulder pads.

“I’m Nyma. My paranoid friend over there is Rolo.” she pointed the flashlight at a man standing next to her with a significant amount of stubble and some pretty sick tattoos peeking out from under his own blood-stained overalls. Most notable, though, was the outline of a pistol in his pocket. Hunk was suddenly _very_ glad he looked his age instead of older like his cousins.

“I’m Hunk, this rude asshole is Keith.” he managed a grin, lowering his arms as he walked down to the ground floor. Nyma pointed her flashlight at the pale tiled wall, providing some diffuse light. “Nice to see some friendly faces.”

“Same.” Nyma held out her hand, and Hunk shook it. “We’re headed for his family’s place in the mountains.” she jerked her thumb towards Rolo. “You?”

“My hometown.” Hunk replied. “It’s small enough that there won’t be many zombies, if any.”

“Galra.” Keith said, the protest already sounding rote.

“Walkers.” Rolo supplied at the same time.

“Zombies.” Hunk repeated, ignoring both of them. Honestly he didn’t care what anyone else called them, but Keith had been pretty insistent that galra weren’t zombies so he was gonna keep calling them zombies until his buddy came around. Call a spade a spade, that’s what his granny always said.

Nyma chuckled, and turned to start towards the dimly lit turnstiles. “Personally, I like to call them walkers.” she said, vaulting over one of the intact gates. Hunk just pushed through a pair which hung loosely on their hinges, wincing slightly at the squeak of protest. “Zombies makes it feel less real, somehow.”

“I like to call things what they are.” Hunk shrugged. “Living dead walking around eating people, spreading like a disease? That’s zombies in my book.”

Nyma made a noncommittal noise, and lead Hunk through the trashed lobby towards the hallway and final set of stairs that let out onto the street. The small square windows in the metal doors had been covered with newspaper, and Hunk paused a few feet back from them. He hadn’t noticed any zombies from the tracks, and he doubted Keith would’ve come down if there was a horde outside, but still…

“You’re welcome to hide out with us tonight, if you don’t feel like trying your luck just yet.” Rolo said, sauntering up with his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his overalls. “Our car broke down a block away earlier, so there may still be some walkers lurkin’ ‘round out there.”

That was, weird. Rolo had been fully ready to attack them until Nyma took control of the situation, and now he was suggesting they stay here overnight when there were still hours to sundown?

“Really?” Keith cocked his head to the side. “It _would_ be pretty nice to not need to worry about finding somewhere defensible.”

Rolo grinned, easy as anything, and Hunk’s stomach turned. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong. “Actually, we’ve still got a long ways to go, so we should be going.” he said quickly, grabbing Keith by the wrist.

“You could use our stove to make yourselves dinner.” Rolo offered, gesturing to a small pile of bags stacked in the corner, largely disguised by the detritus piled up against them.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Hunk said firmly, tugging a confused Keith towards the door.

“Okay.” Nyma nodded. “Good luck out there.” she smiled softly, and rested her hand on Hunk’s elbow as he reached for the door. “I hope you get home safely.”

Hunk didn’t quite manage to smile back, but he did nod. Rolo and Nyma were already hissing angrily at each other by the time the door swung shut behind them, and he breathed easier once he heard the latch click shut.

“What was that about?” Keith scowled, pulling his arm free of Hunk’s grip. “We could’ve had warm food and decent company for the night.”

“I just-” Hunk shook his head, and adjusted his grip on his bat. “Something was off about them.” he looked up and down the street, and pointed his bat at a blue Saturn with white racing stripes. It was parked perfectly in the bus stop zone at the end of the block. “Does that look like a car that they had to abandon because of zombies?”

“They said it broke down.” Keith frowned, crossing his arms.

“They’re liars, and I don’t trust them.” Hunk declared, crossing his arms right back and straightening up to be taller than Keith. Admittedly only by a few inches, and mostly noticeable because Keith was kinda crouched/slouched due to the weight of his pack, but it was obviously enough because Keith sighed and started off down the sidewalk away from the car.

“Fine, we’ll find somewhere else to hole up. But you don’t get to complain about the food being shitty.”

“Fair.” Hunk said after a moment of consideration. Keeping his mouth shut about the food quality was a small price to pay for not sticking with those weirdos.


	4. Chapter 4

Keith scratched off another day on his pocket calendar, and slipped it back into his right hip pouch next to a mini medical kit and some glow sticks. He leaned his head back against the wall, and exhaled until his lungs were nearly empty. Had it really only been five days? Everything had gone to hell so quickly, it still felt a little surreal sometimes. Here he was, camping out on the floor of some still-furnished house with a classmate he barely knew and planning how best to go about raiding a grocery or superstore without attracting the attention of any galra.

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” Hunk asked, already tucked in his sleeping bag and lying on his stomach.

Keith shrugged, looking at nothing in particular. “Just how surreal this feels. A week ago my biggest worry was passing Rhet and keeping my scholarship. Now I’ve gotta worry about staying alive.”

“You had a scholarship?” Hunk asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Wouldn’a left Texas if I didn’t.”

“You’re from Texas?” Hunk’s eyes widened almost comically.

“Yes?” Keith frowned. It really wasn’t that big a deal.

“Where’d you grow up?” Hunk was fully focused on him now, and Keith almost groaned. This was why he hated talking about any time before he’d turned eighteen. The answer was way more complicated than he was willing to explain, took far too long to list all the parts of, and inevitably made people uncomfortable. He didn’t want Hunk’s pity, didn’t want _anyone’s_ pity, so he just shrugged.

“Li’l bit of everywhere.” he said as smoothly as he could.

“Family moved around a lot?”

Keith sighed. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation, but it looked like Hunk wasn’t going to be satisfied with a vague answer. “Changed families a lot.” Keith hunched his shoulders, hiding his face with the collar of his jacket.

“Oh.”

Keith ducked his head, pulling his knees up towards his chest and crossing his arms atop them. He wished he could just forget everything his foster families had told him, but it was burnt into his brain and he couldn’t not remember it when he talked about his past, no matter how briefly. He grabbed for his knife, the one constant in his ever-changing world, and focused on breathing as he laid the flat of its blade against his forearm. He was more than their words, more than bad memories, more than hateful sermons and ‘disciplinary’ lashings and a father that didn’t care enough to stay. He had earned his spot at the university, trained himself to speak with an East Coast accent, scraped straight As even with a Rhet teacher who hated him and a dorm that felt more like a cage than a refuge. He wouldn’t cry. He _wouldn’t_.

“Hey, Keith?” Hunk settled down against the wall next to him, close enough that Keith could feel his body heat but not quite touching. “My family will be happy to have you around.” he didn’t reach out, didn’t try to comfort Keith with a touch, and for that Keith was grateful. He sucked a near-full breath in through his teeth, and exhaled it through his nose.

“Thanks.” he said after a long minute of silence. It was a poor excuse for gratitude, but it was all he could muster. Hunk had no reason to offer him anything, especially when they weren’t even friends, but he was doing it anyways. Big sunny lug probably didn’t even realize how much it meant to him, he was pretty good at masking his emotions after all. It took another minute of slow, deliberate breathing for the tightness in Keith’s chest and throat to fade, and once he was sure he wasn’t about to embarrass himself in front of his travelling companion he carefully sheathed his knife against the small of his back. “Could we maybe not talk about this again?” he asked quietly, somehow managing to make his voice come out normal.

“Sure.” Hunk said after a minute. “But are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Keith lowered his shoulders and straightened his back. “Peachy.” he said as drily as he could manage, pushing off the wall and rising to his feet. He’d do a perimeter check, then settle in for first watch. With this many windows, and the number of galra in the streets outside, they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. “Go to sleep, Hunk. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”

“If you say so.” Hunk frowned. Keith picked up his crowbar, and walked towards the first window. They’d drawn the curtains as soon as they came inside, which meant random galra outside wouldn’t see him moving around, but it also meant that he had to be very careful in checking the street. A few minutes later proved the place to be clear on all sides, and he sank down against the wall facing the front door.

The silence was punctuated by Hunk’s soft snores and the occasional sound of galra outside, and Keith wished he had his phone. Without anything to do, no apps or music or classwork to distract him, his mind would begin to wander. It happened pretty often, since his roomie hadn’t liked him playing music overnight, but since leaving campus he’d been falling asleep too fast to think about anything. Some nights it wasn’t so bad, he’d end up curled around his phone scrolling through wikipedia at 2AM learning about something random like the frequency of mutations in cloned DNA, but other nights made him wish he could just curl up and make everything stop. And of course, tonight was one of the latter.

He hummed the refrain of some vapid love song which had been all over the radio recently, but the words kept slipping from his mind, replaced by the voice of a priest from Pear Valley where he’d made the mistake of developing his first crush on another boy. He shook his head, pressing his hands to his forehead. He wasn’t broken, his existence wasn’t a sin. He was past this. He was more than this. So why did his throat still close up at the memory of Granny Grass’s hand around his wrist? Why couldn’t he shake the lingering doubts of his own value?

“Just as I am, I am loved.” he whispered, staring at the door they’d barricaded with an armchair and TV stand. “Jeremiah, thirty one three.” he ducked his head and tried to remember the catechism book he’d read that in. The worn pages, the fancy print with all its swirls and decorations that had been so hard to read as a seven year old, the picture of three kids being hugged by an old man with a beard which was printed above it. He could still remember the droning of mass going on in the background when he read it to himself for the first time, the summer heat which had made his sweaty legs stick to the plastic chair below his shorts, the musty scent of incense which filled the small room.

“Just as I am, I am loved.” he repeated, the words barely more than a breath. “I am loved.” the words felt like a lie, and made his chest ache, but maybe if he repeated it enough times he could trick himself into believing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus fuck I don’t even know where this came from. Texan Keith is basically canon now, but initially I picked it up as a headcanon from [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7801666) (which is super cute, btw, you should go read it) as for the rest... yeah, that just kinda. Happened.


	5. Chapter 5

Keith froze in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to stare through the plate glass window which made up the front of the pawn shop. There was the usual assortment of knick-knacks, TVs and guitars and sound equipment, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the handle peeking out from behind a shiny electric bass.

Hunk turned around after a few steps, and sighed. “Keith, dude, whatever you’re staring at ain’t worth it.”

“It’s worth it.” Keith said, lifting his crowbar and jamming one end under the flap latch thing holding the shutter closed. It took a few minutes of throwing his weight at the bar before the metal gave with an unholy screech, and Keith threw the shutter open. It rattled loudly, and he was pretty sure he heard a galra scream.

“Keith, wai-” Hunk stopped mid-word with a yelp as Keith swung his crowbar into the glass with all his might. The whole pane spiderwebbed with a loud crack, and Keith pulled back for a second swing. That knocked a hole in the window, and a few good smacks with the heels of his gloved hands cleared a hole big enough for him to step through. There were definitely galra approaching now, lots of them, and quickly, but honestly he didn’t care that much.

“We should get out of here.” Hunk said anxiously. Keith stuffed his crowbar through his rolled up sleeping bag with one hand as he grabbed the item which had caught his eye, and his lips curled up as he spotted a small lacquered wood box behind it. He jammed the box in his backpack as quickly as he could, and jumped back out onto the sidewalk.

“Run.” he said, and Hunk broke into a near sprint. The inhuman screeching was drawing nearer at an alarming rate, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to be worried. A galra staggered out in front of them, and Hunk screamed but Keith felt himself grin. The ring of steel made his hair stand on end, and he let out his best war cry as he swung.

The blade wasn’t sharp at all, but it was heavy enough that it didn’t matter that much. Keith struck the side of his target’s head, and it exploded in an impressive shower of skull and brain matter. His shoulder was already starting to ache from supporting the full weight of a length of beautifully tempered steel, but it was a good ache. Hunk let out a yelp as Keith spun his new sword back into a ready position, and Keith didn’t look back to see if his companion was keeping up. The next galra got a broken neck for its efforts, and Hunk smashed the jaw off of a third one to knock it to the ground as they ducked into an apartment building. Getting out in the morning would be a pain, but Keith didn’t care.

They climbed up a few floors in silence before finding an open door, and after pushing a loaded bookcase in front of it Keith dropped his bag by the wall and knelt to unzip it. He’d always wanted a sword, and really what better excuse was there to steal one than the literal apocalypse? He was digging out the box of maintenance supplies when Hunk’s hand slammed into the wall over his head, making him startle and drop the box.

“What the _fuck_ was that, Keith?”

“What was what?” Keith frowned, picking the box back up and tucking it under one arm.

“That, out there!” Hunk gestured towards the door, evidently meaning outside. “We almost died!”

“We’ve almost died five times already, and it’s only been nine days since things went to shit.” Keith pointed out.

“You knew getting into that store would bring a horde down on our heads, and you did it anyways!” Hunk threw his arms in the air. “And for what, a bigger weapon? You could’ve grabbed a baseball bat in Target if you wanted something heavier than a crowbar.”

“It’s a _katana_.” Keith insisted, hefting his new weapon with one hand. With a bit of practice, he’d probably be able to swing it around one-handed without a problem. It wasn’t like he’d be lacking practice time, either. Or targets.

“A blunt one!” Hunk exclaimed. “And do you know how much fucking maintenance those things take? I had to do a report on them for AP Lit and let me tell you, it’s a _lot_ of work keeping them in working order!”

“And?” Keith frowned. Honestly, Hunk was just being unreasonable at this point.

“What part of _we almost died_ is confusing to you?!”

“The part where we didn’t?” Keith set the saya down gently on his backpack, and stood up with his katana in hand. And god, that was nice to say. Think. Whatever. He had a sword now. “I’m gonna clean this up and give it a sharpening.” he said dismissively, ducking past Hunk’s arm towards the ancient-looking couch.

“With what?”

“This?” Keith turned back to Hunk and slid the box of maintenance supplies into his free hand to hold up. “And if it doesn’t have anything for sharpening, I’ll figure something out.”

Hunk groaned. Keith ignored him and sat on the end of the couch, resting his sword across his knees and the box in his lap. It had a pack of wet wipes, a fuzzy rag, and three oil stones. Keith grinned, and opened the wet wipes. Cleaning first, then sharpening, then he could maybe shove the furniture to the edges of the room and get some practice in. It had been forever since he last had a chance, and if the dull ache in his shoulder was any indication he sorely needed a refresher.

Hunk grumbled as he started poking around the crummy apartment for supplies, and Keith smiled. No more swinging a crowbar wildly at approaching galra. No more peeling gore out of the divot on the end. No more struggling to grip something which hadn’t been designed with full-body swing in mind. Now that he had an actual weapon, a fucking _katana_ , the galra didn’t stand a chance.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey, Hunk. Up and at ‘em.” Keith gave his companion’s shoulder a brisk shake. The sun had been up for a while now, long enough for him to do a quick equipment check and pack away the clothes they’d hung up to air out last night, and his travelling mate was still asleep under a pile of blankets on the couch. 

Hunk groaned, and when his eyes didn’t crack open Keith’s breath caught in his throat. He knelt, and pressed the back of his hand to Hunk’s forehead. The few times Hunk had actually touched him, his skin had been slightly cooler than Keith’s. Now, though, Hunk was burning up. It could just be a normal fever, but they’d been travelling together for almost a fortnight now. If Hunk had just caught a fever from something they encountered, Keith would be feeling like shit too.

“Hunk, hey, I need you to sit up.” Keith said, pulling at Hunk’s shoulders until he was vaguely upright. Hunk wavered a bit, but managed to not flop back down until Keith had peeled the sweaty T-shirt over his head. What the exposed skin revealed, though, was far from good. Hunk’s chest was dotted with bruises ranging from the size of a quarter to one near his shoulder which was nearly as big as Keith’s palm. Fever, inexplicable bruising... Keith swallowed hard and gently placed a hand on Hunk’s face, resting his thumb on his companion’s closed eyelid. He dragged it open, and choked on air when Hunk’s pupil focused on him. He snatched his hand back, fell on his ass when his body reeled backwards faster than his feet, and scooted another few inches away with his hand clutched close to his chest.

Hunk’s sclera was yellow at the edges, that much was clear in the morning light. He was turning into a galra. Keith knew he should do something, should get one of their weapons and keep his promise, but... it was Hunk. The guy who watched his back when they were scavenging for supplies, who filled the silence with idle chatter, who seemed to almost enjoy his company at times. Hunk couldn’t turn, he couldn’t. He had a family waiting for him, triplet sisters, a pair of older cousins, aunts and uncles and grandparents and more extended family than Keith could keep track of.

“Keith?” Hunk mumbled, turning his head and squinting at Keith.

He’d promised not to let Hunk hurt anyone, but that didn’t mean he had to do the deed _now_. Hunk was still lucid, still himself. From what he’d read online, the fever only burned for a few days before killing its victim. He’d make his companion’s last days as comfortable as he could, and then... then he’d man up and do what needed to be done. But until then, he was stuck playing nursemaid.

“Yeah.” Keith nodded slowly, picking himself up off the floor. “Yeah, it’s me, Hunk.” he glanced around, and crossed the room to pick up Hunk’s canteen. Fluids were important during a fever, due to all the sweating. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a glass, blew out the dust, and poured maybe an inch of water into it. Hunk had managed to prop himself up against the back and arm of the couch by the time Keith got back to him, blankets pulled up around his bare torso.

“I don’t feel so good.” he mumbled, baleful yellowing eyes focusing on Keith.

Keith nodded, and held out the glass. “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Hunk regarded the glass suspiciously for a moment, then slowly reached out and took it in careful, calloused fingers. He drank the whole thing, and Keith took it back once it was empty. This time he poured a half cup, which Hunk drank just as quickly. Once he’d downed three cups, Hunk shook his head and groaned, slumping against the back of the couch.

“I hate being sick.” he grumbled, blinking blearily and glaring at the window.

“Want me to close the blinds?” Keith asked, setting down the cup.

Hunk shook his head, and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll just-” he swayed, and Keith grabbed him by the sleeves.

“Sit down.” he said firmly, giving his travelling companion a little push. “Whatever it is, you can do it-” he shut his mouth so quickly he almost bit his tongue. Hunk wouldn’t be able do anything once he got better. He wasn’t going to get better. “Later.” he finished lamely. “After you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“Fine.” Hunk sighed. “Can I have my computer?”

Computer? Keith frowned and looked over at Hunk’s bag. That would explain why it was always so damn heavy. “Sure.” he said slowly, and walked over to pull it out of the compartment it shared with Hunk’s clothes. Without electricity it was just a really big paperweight, which was why he’d left his own computer and cell phone back in his dorm room. Maybe Hunk thought his family’s place would have power? But that didn’t make sense, they lived in buttfuck-nowhere Arkansas, it wasn’t like they had a power plant in walking distance. And even if they did, Hunk talked incessantly about how his relatives had trouble working anything more complicated than a tractor, they’d never be able to run a whole plant with the, what, eight of them? Ten?

“Here.” he held the computer out to Hunk, who grinned and took it carefully, running his fingers along the fat protective casing. Then he paused, ran his fingers back up an inch or so, and pressed. Keith’s eyes widened, and his mouth may have fallen open. The thick back of the computer wasn’t a protective case at all. “Are those-”

“Solar panels.” Hunk grinned, caressing the edges of the flaps as he unfolded them, revealing rectangles of shiny blue. “Took forever to make them.”

“You _made_ those?” Keith’s eyes widened further. How high was this guy’s IQ that he was building his own solar panels to power his laptop?

“Yep.” Hunk carefully settled the panels in place. “If we’re not moving today, could you put this in the window?”

“Yeah, sure.” Keith said, taking the computer with more care than he’d handled anything else in his life. “No problem.” he stood, crossed carefully to the window, and settled it on the wide ledge. “That good?” he glanced over his shoulder, and Hunk nodded.

“Great.”

“I’m gonna check the medicine cabinet.” Keith said after a moment, turning towards the bathroom. He couldn’t make Hunk better, couldn’t stop him from becoming a galra, but he could make sure that his travelling companion’s last days were relatively comfortable.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, lil late today. got distracted playing apps >_

Keith jolted awake at a quiet creak near his ear, knife in hand before he could even identify what was making the sound. He glimpsed dark bruise-purple skin in the early morning light, and shook his head to clear the last fog of sleep from it. Right, Hunk. He’d been waiting up to keep his promise and make sure his companion didn’t have the chance to hurt anyone, but somehow he must’ve fallen asleep. Wait, he’d fallen asleep next to a turning galra and he wasn’t dead? Keith rolled to his knees and pressed the back of his hand to Hunk’s forehead. He wasn’t sweaty and feverish anymore, but slightly cool to the touch.

“Hunk?” Keith gave his shoulder a brisk shake, and got an irritated swat for it.

“Five more minutes.” his travelling companion groaned, and Keith almost laughed in relief. There had been a handful of claims online that it was possible to get infected and not die, but all of them were friend-of-a-friend type stories so he’d written them off as fabrications. He’d never been happier to be wrong.

“Sure thing.” he grinned, and went to grab a granola bar from his bag. His katana could probably use some cleaning, since he’d kinda neglected it during the past three days. Normally he would’ve rather taken a boot to the head than leave his weapon untended for that long, but having to watch someone die without being able to do anything felt like the kind of situation which granted a bit of leeway. Now, though, things would be okay. Hunk’s fever had broken, the bruises would fade, and they could keep heading towards Evans. He sat down against the wall, and put oil stone to metal.

“Um, Keith?” Hunk broke the silence a few minutes later, his voice tinged with fear. Keith looked up, and saw Hunk staring at his arms.

“What?” he asked, oil stone stilling against the blade.

“Why am I still alive?” Hunk looked up, and whatever smile might have been on Keith’s face fell right off. If he woke up looking like a galra and found Hunk patching up his baseball bat, he knew what he’d assume.

“You pulled through.” he said quickly, setting his sword aside with a quiet clatter. “I guess friend-of-a-friend stories aren’t always total bull.” he managed a quick smile at that, and Hunk relaxed slightly.

“Oh, that’s a relief.” he chuckled awkwardly. “I thought...” Hunk trailed off, and Keith looked down at his knees. He had an idea of what Hunk had been thinking, and it wasn’t good. Thankfully, before the silence could get awkward, Hunk’s stomach growled loudly. Keith chuckled, and rose to his feet.

“Granola bar or protein bar?” he asked, pulling one of each out of his bag.

“Both?” Hunk grinned, slightly sheepish, and Keith lobbed both items at him. “Thanks.” Hunk’s smile widened, becoming more genuine, and he tore into his breakfast. The sight of his travelling companion alert and acting like his usual self was enough to siphon off most of Keith’s remaining tension. They were alive, safe from galra, with supplies enough to last them both a few days.

“We’ll have to hunt down water soon.” he mused, picking up his canteen and taking a measured sip.

“Shit.” Hunk mumbled, swallowing the last of his breakfast. “How are we doing on food?”

“We’re good for a few days.” Keith said, glancing at the packs sitting next to him. “If we raid the rest of the building we might even find some more bottled water, be able to stay here until you stop looking like a galra.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “I think the whole carrying a backpack and not attacking anyone would be enough of a give-away.”

Keith frowned, looking down at his hands as he clasped them together. “You’d be surprised.” he said softly, recalling countless pieces of zombie media where the protagonists shot first and asked questions later. Strange as it was, having Hunk around wasn’t draining. It wasn’t even awkward, most of the time. If Hunk died, well, for one he wouldn’t have anywhere to go. For two, he’d have to try to survive solo, which wasn’t something he was willing to attempt. “Let’s just, search the building today. We’ll move on when we run low again.”

“Sounds good.” Hunk gave a single nod, then groaned as he swung his legs off the couch. “Ow, bruises everywhere.” he grimaced.

“Good thing we’re not headed outside.” Keith teased. “Groaning like that, someone just might think you’re actually a galra.”

“Don’t remind me.” Hunk sighed, pushing himself to his feet. Keith gave his katana a quick wipe-down, sheathed it, and followed suit. Hopefully they’d find enough water in here to last them until Hunk’s bruises faded entirely. If just the thought of watching Hunk die made his stomach twist unpleasantly, he had no desire to find out what the actual event would do to him.

\---

Three days later, they had to leave the building to scrounge up more food and water. Hunk’s appetite had returned with a vengeance since his recovery, and Keith made a mental note to keep an eye out for dense, filling foods. Hunk had managed to charge his phone off his solar-powered laptop, and after the unsurprising revelation that there was no cell signal here he’d promptly begun taking pictures. Selfies in front of graffiti sprayed on the walls of grimy buildings, long shots down the degrading streets, close-ups of urban decay. Keith was pretty sure there were candids of him in there somewhere, but Hunk didn’t show him those. He did insist on stopping to take pictures of an impressively fortified library covered in graffiti tags, but Keith dragged him away before he could try to say hi to whoever was inside. Nothing good was waiting for them in there, he was sure of it.

They gathered up a decent haul, a whole case of bottled water plus several pounds of nonperishable foods, and Keith was actually feeling alright as they headed back to their temporary base of operations. They’d have to divvy up the weight between their bags, fill their canteens, and by the time all their shit was packed it would definitely be too late to set out safely, but tomorrow morning they’d be back on the road. Every day of walking brought them closer to Evans, to Hunk’s family, to _safety_. It hadn’t even been three weeks yet, but already the thought of not having to be on guard through the night seemed like a pipe dream.

A loud clunk dragged Keith’s mind back to the present, and his hand was on the hilt of his katana before he registered what the sound was. Hunk’s bag was on the ground, the man himself running towards the apartment building they’d been staying in. Keith sucked a breath in through his teeth as he realized why, and scooped up Hunk’s pack in his arms before sprinting after his travelling companion. The building had been marked with a graffiti tag since they left, windows thrown open, the door fully removed from its hinges. Keith was only two thirds of the way up to the floor where they’d made camp when he heard the scream, and adrenaline spurred his aching legs back to top speed. He dropped Hunk’s bag at the top of the third flight of steps, and drew his sword as he ran into the apartment.

The door was hanging lopsidedly from one hinge, the clothes and supplies they’d left neatly organized now scattered throughout the trashed room, and in the middle of it all was Hunk on his knees. No galra in sight, no motion but the stirring of detritus on the floor in the breeze from the open window. The open, empty-silled window. “Shit.” he breathed, letting his katana fall to his side. Not only did they have to find a new hiding place, they didn’t have enough daylight left to do so _and_ hunt down the people who took Hunk’s computer.

“We’re getting it back.” Hunk said darkly, rising to his feet with more grace than Keith had realized he possessed.

“Hunk, it’s just-”

“It’s _mine_.” Hunk snapped, not even turning to look at Keith as he gathered up his clothing from the mess on the floor. “I built that computer from the ground up. I’m not about to let some thug have it.”

“We don’t even know where it is.” Keith said, gathering up his own clothes and stuffing them in his bag.

“Yes, I do.” Hunk said, heading towards the hallway. “You saw the tag on this building.”

“That tag was on half the buildings we passed today!” Keith exclaimed, zipping his clothing compartment shut and scooping as much of their scattered food stores into his bag as would fit around the pack of water bottles.

“But only one building was covered in it.” Hunk stood in the doorway, and Keith’s hands curled into claws against his bag. This wasn’t a galra, it was just Hunk, but Hunk could probably snap him like a twig if he was angry enough and that fact had some deep, primal part of his brain screaming for him to run. “You coming?”

Keith nodded jerkily, zipping his bag shut and swinging it onto his shoulders. His instincts were rarely wrong, but this was Hunk. Hunk wouldn’t hurt him, even if he was physically capable of doing so. He followed his travelling companion down to the street, and glanced up at the sun as they headed out towards the fortified library. It was already sinking towards the west, giving them maybe two or three hours before night fully fell, and half that until streetlights would’ve been coming on if they still had electricity. It was half an hour to the library, which didn’t leave them nearly enough time to find a new hideout for Keith to be comfortable. The alternative was letting Hunk do this alone, though, and Keith didn’t want to do that.

Hunk’s fists clenched and unclenched around the grip of his bat as he headed towards their destination, and Keith kept a hand on his katana. Hunk moved with an eerie grace, something about his gait reminding Keith of a large cat stalking its prey, and Keith shook his head to clear it. They were headed into a confrontation, he couldn’t afford to be distracted when the computer thieves might try to attack them. The library stood proudly at the end of the street, smack dab in the middle of the T intersection, impossible to miss. Its deep front lawn had probably been immaculate before the galra came, but now it was a mess of chain link fences and barbed wire and other defences which looked like they’d been pulled straight out of a museum exhibit.

They were only just across the street from the library when something came whistling through the air. Keith ducked, but it wrapped around Hunk and he hit the ground with a string of curses. Another bola wrapped around Keith’s legs, pulling them together as he tried to step forward and help his fallen comrade, and he landed hard on his shoulder with a yelp of pain.

“What the _fuck_.” Hunk hissed, struggling with his restraints. “Who uses a fucking bola?”

Keith twisted, and reached, but he couldn’t get his arm free enough to grab his dagger. “Not galra, that’s for sure.”

“We can’t leave them there.” a voice drifted over to Keith, and he stiffened.

“Hunk, shut up for a minute.” he hissed, cocking his head towards where he thought the sound was coming from.

“You’re such a bleeding heart, Mockingjay.” a slightly deeper voice responded in a condescending tone.

“They’d attract geeks, Albatross.” the first voice, Mockingjay, snapped back. “You know the twins can’t stand that noise they make.”

The voices were definitely coming closer, but Keith wasn’t sure he was hearing them right. His head was kinda ringing a bit from hitting the ground, but something sounded off, their voices missing some quality he couldn’t identify.

“Robin and Raven can handle a little screaming.” Albatross said gruffly. “I don’t want to drag these assholes all the way inside.”

“Then I’ll get Finch and tell him you wanted to let some innocent grown-ups get _eaten_ on our front step.”

“Fine, fine.” Albatross sighed. “We’ll bring them to see Pigeon, let out glorious leader decide what to do with them.”

“I’m telling ‘em you said that.” laughed Mockingjay, and Keith’s eyes widened as a girl with short, choppy hair crouched in front of him. Her face was round, eyes bright behind her glasses, face pockmarked with acne. “Hope you don’t mind being dragged a bit.” she said brightly.

“You’re a _kid_.” Keith said, disbelief as audible in his voice as it probably was on his face.

“Still took you down, though.” she grinned, standing and walking over to his feet. “Watching Pigeon interrogate you two is gonna be _fun_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No points for guessing who Pigeon is.


	8. Chapter 8

“Yo, Pigeon!” Albatross yelled as soon as they were through the second set of doors. “We caught some grown-ups lurkin’ ‘round outside!”

“We weren’t lurking!” Hunk protested, managing to heave himself into a kneeling position. “You stole my computer, and I’m here to get it back!”

“Computer?” a young voice said, and Keith looked up as the girl who’d been dragging him pulled him more or less upright. There was another kid with glasses seated atop a pyramid of books, barely discernable in the shadows. “Even if one of my Lost Nerds did find a computer, it’d be useless without electricity.”

“Lost Nerds?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. “How old even are you kids?”

“Old enough to know you’re not really an adult.” Pigeon said smugly, standing and picking their way down the book pile, one arm held out for balance. “And besides, we only steal from geeks and empty buildings. If someone stole your nice shiny laptop, it wasn’t us.” they jumped the last few feet, and Keith scowled as he caught sight of the look on their face. They’d definitely stolen the computer.

“Even if the buildings are only temporarily empty?” he challenged, holding himself as tall as he could while bound. Pigeon just grinned wider.

“What are you gonna do, call the cops?” they teased, leaning towards Hunk. “Just leave it with me, and I won’t kick you out ‘til morning.”

“I swear to god I’ll-”

Keith shifted his weight off his heels, spun, and caught Hunk in the side of the knee with a sharp kick to make him shut up. “How about we make a deal.” he said as levelly as he could, trying to sound mature and reasonable despite the fact that he was lying on the ground wrapped up in a bola. “You don’t want the computer, you just want the solar panels on the back, right?” the girl who’d dragged him in pulled him upright again as Pigeon nodded. “Keep them, and let Hunk have his laptop back.”

“Keith!” Hunk cried, throwing his whole body to the side to slam his head into Keith’s arm, nearly knocking him over again. “You’re not giving away my solar panels!”

Pigeon laughed, and turned to one of the kids still half lurking in the shadows. “Canary, bring me the computer we grabbed earlier. Robin, Rae, get over here and untie these idiots.”

“Idiots?” Hunk squawked, managing to lever himself upright without using his hands. “I’ll show you idiots, you-” this time it was Albatross who shut Hunk up, kicking him in the small of the back.

“Shut it, fatso.” the teen snapped. “Pigeon’s not leader for nothin’.”

“Albatross?” Pigeon said with a sweet smile, waiting until they had the taller kid’s attention to continue. “Shut the fuck up. I can take care of myself.” they pulled a pair of green-and-silver brass knuckles from the pocket of their too-big pullover hoodie, and waved them in Albatross’s face.

“But-”

“You guys elected me leader, didn’t you?” they were still smiling, still speaking in that saccharine-sweet voice, and Keith was honestly jealous for a second. This kid was doing a better job of intimidating someone with brass knuckles and a smile than he’d ever been able to do with a knife and a scowl. Albatross nodded, and Pigeon cuffed him gently on the chin with the brass knuckles. “So back off, and let the twins undo these knots.”

“Yeah, sure.” the boy huffed, slouching off into the gloom. Keith tracked him with his eyes until he vanished around a corner, then his gaze flicked back to Pigeon. Between the oversized hoodie, baggy cargo shorts, and evidently home-cut hair, he couldn’t actually tell if this kid was a boy or a girl.

“So.” Pigeon grinned, taking a seat on the base of the book pyramid as a pair of dark-haired siblings came up and began working at the ropes. “Why’s this computer so important to you? There’s no internet, and you’re clearly not using it to power anything.”

“It’s my computer.” Hunk frowned, like he couldn’t believe someone was asking him this question. “I built it from scratch. I’m not going to just give it away because some middle school brat wants it.”

“Excuse you.” Pigeon huffed, crossing their arms as the ropes around Hunk’s torso came loose. “I’m a freshman.” the girl working on Keith’s ropes got them loose a second later, and Keith helped peel them away enough for him to stand.

“Funny, so are we.” he said, putting a hand on his katana and glaring at Mockingjay when she tried to take it. She glared back, and Keith was about to draw it when a loud snapping, crackling noise made every hair on his body stand on end. He tasted ozone, and looked towards the sound to see the silver studs of Pigeon’s brass knuckles with bright blue-white electricity arcing between them.

“Impressed?” they asked, shifting their thumb and turning off the power. “Made ‘em myself.” they tucked their hand back into their hoodie pocket. “Now, how about you two give me your names?”

Behind him, Mockingjay giggled. Keith scowled and crossed his arms, angling his body so Mockingjay would have to come around him to get at his sword. “Tell me your name, bird nerd, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“I’m Hunk.” Hunk said, not looking intimidated in the slightest. “My grumpy friend is Keith.” he gestured to Keith with one hand, and Keith almost did a double take. Friend? He’d never expected to have that word used on him, let alone by someone who’d known him for two and a half weeks.

“Hunk?” Pigeon snorted. “That’s a dumb name.”

“Says _Pigeon_.” Keith retorted automatically, and the brat’s smirk fell flat.

“Well I wanted to be Pidgey, but _some people_ decided that they don’t count as birds, so I got to be Pigeon instead.”

“They’re not birds, they’re pokemon.” said the boy standing behind Hunk in much the same tone Keith used when correcting Hunk on what to call the shambling hordes of living corpses outside. Keith eyed the nunchaku tucked lazily in his back pocket, and tried to gauge how skilled the kid might be.

“The pokedex calls them the tiny bird pokemon, though.” the girl behind him said, and Pigeon gestured to her with a now-empty right hand.

“Thank you, Raven.”

Alright, so the girl was Raven and the boy was Robin. The only ones he hadn’t seen were Canary and Finch, then, unless there were more kids here who hadn’t been mentioned by name yet.

“Anyways.” Pigeon waved their right hand dismissively, tucking their left across the small of their back as their straightened up. “Hunk, Keith. Where are the two of you heading?”

“None of your-”

“Home.” Hunk said, interrupting Keith’s sneered dismissal. “My family lives in Arkansas, I need to know they’re okay.” his shoulders slumped, and Keith’s chest felt tight as his travelling mate slumped forwards slightly. They’d been travelling under the assumption that Evans was more or less galra-free, but there was a very real chance nobody lived there anymore. Hunk’s sisters might be okay if their immune systems were as strong as his, but the rest of his family...

“Arkansas?” Pigeon frowned. “The hell are you doing in Virginia?”

“We were going to college in Maryland.” Hunk answered evenly, shooting Keith a ‘shut up and let me do the talking’ look.

“And you stopped in my town because...?” Pigeon tilted their head slightly.

“Because I got sick.” Hunk supplied. “Keith was taking care of me.”

“What’s with the twenty questions?” Keith asked, cutting off whatever Pigeon had been about to ask next. “You wanted to know why Hunk wants his computer back, and he told you.”

“You want to skip to the end?” Pigeon narrowed their eyes.

“Yes.” Keith glared right back.

“How many people have you killed.” they asked flatly, eyes hard as steel.

“What? None!” Keith exclaimed, stepping back reflexively. “I’m an aeronautics major, not a monster!”

“Really?” Pigeon tilted their head, taking a step closer without changing their posture. “Then all the bloodstains on your clothes are from your own blood. Your sword is just for show. The knife strapped to your belt has never seen blood on its blade?” they stopped just a few inches in front of Keith, and despite having to look down to meet their eyes Keith felt small next to them. “I’ve taken the jaws and fingers off of my fair share of geeks, but I’ve never killed anyone. My hands are clean.”

Keith squared his shoulders and leaned forward slightly, uncrossing his arms to rest one hand on the hilt of his katana. “And you’re saying mine aren’t?”

“Can I just have my computer back?” Hunk huffed, reaching over to physically pull Keith away from the runty Pigeon. Keith stumbled back a step, hand leaving his sword to grip Hunk’s forearm for balance, and he glared briefly at his travelling companion.

“Canary’s getting it.” Pigeon waved their hand dismissively.

“Canary’s _got_ it.” said a new voice as a bleach-blond girl literally skipped into view, face illuminated by the smartphone screen in her hand. “This is officially my favourite thing we’ve ever found.” she grinned, extending her arm and depositing Hunk’s laptop in Pigeon’s hands. “Need another pair of eyes on the big guy?”

Pigeon looked Hunk up and down, then shook their head. “Nah. He built this thing, so he’s gonna help me get the panels off it.”

“I never agreed to that.” Hunk scowled. Keith jabbed him in the side, and he sighed almost inaudibly. “But if you let us stay here tonight, I’ll help you take off one or two of them.”

Pigeon regarded Hunk for a moment with something close to respect, then smirked and went back to looking like a pretentious high school freshie. “Three.”

“Two.” Hunk crossed his arms.

“Three, or your buddy is sleeping outside.” Pigeon smirked, and Hunk’s eyes went wide for a second. Then his face fell into a glare, and Keith couldn’t help but tense. The feeling was back, irrational but impossible to ignore, the sensation that he was looking at a beast which would soon get tired of its prey and turn on him. The high-schoolers tensed as well, all of them but Pigeon stepping back. Pigeon drew their taser-knuckles, and Keith tasted ozone as electricity arced between the studs.

“Throw Keith out, and you’re not getting _any_ panels.” Hunk snarled, knuckles paling under the yellowed bruises. “Two.”

“Three.” Pigeon held up their loudly humming weapon, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed. “Or I’m tazing you both and throwing you to the geeks.”

“Three is good.” Keith said quickly, forcing aside the blind instinctual panic that threatened to choke him.

“No, it’s-”

“Three is good.” he repeated himself more forcefully, meeting Hunk’s eyes this time. In the dim light, his eyes still looked just a bit yellowed. Keith prayed none of the bird nerds would notice. “Your laptop will still charge off of two.” he said, keeping his tone level. “And anyways, I don’t wanna beat up a bunch of little kids.”

“Watch who you’re calling _little_ , buster.” one of the girls behind him snapped. Keith ignored her, keeping his eyes trained on Hunk until the larger boy sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Fine, three.” he said flatly. “But I get to pick which three.”

“I mean, they’re all the same size.” Pigeon shrugged, turning off their taser-knuckles. “And so long as we can charge batteries off ‘em, it doesn’t really matter how long the charging takes.” they relaxed their posture, tucking the little weapon back in their hoodie pocket. “Weapons down, nerds.”

Keith glanced over his shoulder, and saw the girls behind him tucking things in their pockets.

“Hunk, you come with me. Canary, Robin, escort Keith to a room for the night and put Finch on guard duty.”

“Yes, boss.” the two in question said quickly, Canary standing from where she’d perched herself on the bottom of the book pyramid. Robin grabbed his arm, and Keith pulled it free with ease.

“I can follow you two just fine.” he said sharply, tucking his elbows close to his body and glaring at Robin. The boy shrugged, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his open hoodie, and kept walking. Canary gestured for him to go ahead, and then fell in behind him. They were clever kids, he’d give ‘em that. They had good weapons, a defensible fortress, a leader they all respected, and apparently ample resources. They might be able to sit out the winter here, but when their food and other supplies began to fail they’d have a problem. But, well, that was their problem, not his.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my artists, the amazing [Wakatoshiu](http://wakatoshiu.tumblr.com), made a comic of the first section of this chapter! It’s a bit long to embed ( _fifteen panels_ holy fuck) so I’m just gonna link it down at the bottom.

Hunk groaned, falling down heavily into one of the reading armchairs with his computer clutched to his chest. Who knew being half a second from ripping someone’s throat out for two hours would be so _exhausting_? Pigeon was a cool kid, at least. And brilliant, too, with the whole skipping-a-year thing. In another life, he could see them being friends. But as it was, the most he could muster was a grudging respect.

He looked over, and took a closer look at Keith curled up on the couch. Coming in Hunk had just noted he was there, but on second glance it looked like his friend had tried (and failed) to wait up for him. It would’ve been adorable if Keith slept like a normal person, but outside of his sleeping bag, Keith slept in the tightest, most painful-looking curl Hunk had ever seen. He knew firsthand how strong Keith was, he watched the guy swing a sword around on a daily basis, but his friend didn’t really _look_ strong. He was all hard lines and sharp angles, like a bundle of swords in the shape of a person. And even in sleep, Keith’s face rarely smoothed out.

Hunk wondered briefly if Keith’s tense sleeping had started before or after everything went to shit, then shook his head. Before, definitely. He’d sat across the aisle from Keith for an entire semester and even on the first day, he’d had dark smudges under his eyes. How long had he been sleeping like this? What had happened to him that he couldn’t even sleep without being able to defend himself at a moment’s notice?

Keith stirred, knife glinting in his hand, and Hunk set his laptop on his bag with a sigh. “Hey, Keith.” he said softly, going over to crouch in front of his friend. Keith’s eyes fluttered open and, miracle of miracles, some tension left his body.

“Hunk.” Keith breathed, and Hunk nodded.

“Yeah, man. I’m here.” he leaned back a bit, resting his weight on his heels. “Want a blanket?” he asked, reaching for the sleeping bag tied to the outside of Keith’s backpack.

“Mm-mm.” Keith shook his head, eyes already starting to slide shut again. Hunk let out a quiet breath, and took his friend by the shoulders.

“Then let’s at least get you laid out right.” he murmured, pulling Keith until his friend was stretched out across the whole couch, his head propped up on the arm. God, he was so warm. Hunk hadn’t really realized it before, since Keith wasn’t a tactile person and only ever tapped him to get his attention, but touching his friend’s skin felt like holding his hands out towards a campfire.

“‘nk?” Keith grunted, and Hunk realized he’d been caressing Keith’s cheek. Oops. He pulled his hand away with a sheepish grin.

“Go to sleep, Keith.” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“G’d.” Keith mumbled, eyes sliding closed. For a second Hunk wondered if his friend was smiling, then shook his head and headed back to his chair. He’d seen Keith smile maybe three times, and all of them had been at his sword. He’d find out what was up with him eventually, though, even if getting Keith to talk about himself was like pulling teeth.

\---

“Up an’ at ‘em!” a young voice called from outside the door, the wood resonating with heavy thumps of a fist. Hunk sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. The sun was barely up, the sky a depressing grey which made him think they’d be pulling out their ponchos later, and Keith levered himself halfway to upright on one elbow.

“We’re up.” he barked, voice rough from sleep. He coughed into his elbow, brushed his hair out of his face, and glared at the door like it had personally wronged him. Or maybe he was just squinting, it was hard to tell with Keith.

“Well get your shit together and get down to the main room. Pigeon wants to talk to you before breakfast.”

Keith looked at Hunk, and Hunk shrugged. They gathered their things in silence, not hard since they hadn’t unpacked anything last night, and Hunk waved Keith out ahead of him. The boy who was waiting for them could’ve been one of Lance’s siblings, if his roomie had any brothers. He was all gangly limbs and spiffy clothes, with a grin that flickered across his narrow face like he wasn’t used to looking intimidating. “Finch, right?” Hunk asked, and the boy bobbed his head.

“Yup.” he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, and jerked his head to the side. “C’mon, our fearless leader’s got a few more questions before you can go.” he started back the way Hunk had been lead last night, and Keith tucked his hands behind his back. It looked casual, but put his knife in easy reach. Hunk sighed, and kept the grip on his bat light. The thought of breakfast made his mouth water, and he shook away mental images of his mom’s cooking. These kids wouldn’t have anything that needed refrigeration, like eggs or bacon or orange juice. God, he missed orange juice.

The book pyramid looked a lot less impressive in the morning light, and Pigeon looked like a kid playing at King of the Hill perched up on top of it. Their descent was admittedly more impressive, though, now that Hunk could see how barely-stable the pile was.

“Here.” they tossed Hunk a small plastic thing from their... small messenger bag? Big-ish purse? Whatever, Hunk caught the sorta-hemisphere before it hit his chest. “You get the rest of the pack once you answer my questions.”

“Fruit cups?” Keith asked skeptically, and Hunk looked quickly down at the thing in his hand. It was a fruit cup, the kind with jello and mixed fruit in it. He could even see a cherry near the edge. “You’re seriously trying to bribe us with fruit cups?”

“Make them orange ones and you’ve got a deal.” Hunk said, tossing the treat back to Pigeon. Keith groaned. Pigeon laughed, and tucked the snack cup back into their bag.

“That can be arranged.”

“They’re _fruit cups_.” Keith said exasperatedly.

“I haven’t had an orange in almost a month, Keith.” Hunk huffed, crossing his arms. “Dried fruit is nutritious and all, but I’m fucking sick of it.”

Pigeon sniggered, and tucked one of their hands in their hoodie pocket. “Amen to that, man.” they held out their other hand, and Hunk obliged them with a fist bump. Aside from the whole stealing his computer for the solar panels thing, this kid was pretty chill. “And anyways, they’re not hard questions.” they pulled a notepad and thoroughly chewed-on pencil from their bag, and Hunk pushed aside the nagging thought that he should’ve insisted on grabbing some of Lance’s things before they left campus. Going to his dorm would’ve been suicide, and he wasn’t even sure if his sorta-boyfriend was alive.

“So, where did you say you were coming from?”

“Baltimore.” Hunk answered, shaking off thoughts of Lance. That was a mental monster for another time.

Pigeon frowned, pencil scratching on paper. “And you’re headed to?”

“Evans, Arkansas.” Hunk said. Pigeon scratched a few words down, and as they flipped back through earlier pages Hunk was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten yet. His stomach churned, anxiety rising like bile in his throat. “Have you heard anything about it?” he blurted after a few seconds of silence.

Pigeon shook their head, flipping their little notepad shut. “Haven’t had anybody pass through here coming out of Arkansas. Steer clear of Memphis though, if you can. North is safer, last I heard.”

“Oh.” Hunk’s shoulders slumped for a second, then he shook his head. No news was good news, right? If people were doing well for themselves, why would they head out into zombie-heavy areas? “Thanks for the heads up.” he managed what he hoped was a grateful smile.

“Alright.” Pigeon stuffed their notepad back in their hoodie pocket, along with the pencil. “Let’s get you those fruit cups, and then you can keep headin’ on down to Evans.”

“You should come by sometime.” Hunk said as he and Keith followed Pigeon to an impromptu storage room.

“To buttfuck nowhere?” Pigeon scoffed. “Not on your life.”

“Hey, buttfuck nowhere has way fewer galra than an urban center like this.” Keith interjected.

“We’ve got the local geeks under control.” Pigeon said dismissively as they started rummaging through what looked like some grocery store’s entire stock of fruit cups dumped into one large plastic bin. “And with those solar cells, we can keep our hydroponics going through the winter. We’ve got all the knowledge we need right in this building.” they grinned and patted the wall as they stood up. “Here’s your fruit cups.”

Keith caught the package this time, and held onto it as Pigeon escorted them to the front doors. “Good luck.” they grinned, thin and tense in the morning sun. “I hope Evans is still standing when you get there.”

“So do I.” Keith muttered as the door shut behind them. “So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here’s the comic! [Part 1](http://wakatoshiu.tumblr.com/post/157480291662) and [Part 2](http://wakatoshiu.tumblr.com/post/157480356947). Y’all should go like and reblog it, it’s so cute!
> 
> Some fun facts about Pidge’s group which I may or may not have mentioned:  
> \- They are the remnants of a high school robotics club from out of town. Their teacher brought them here for a museum exhibit, and then things went to hell in a handbasket.  
> \- They call themselves the Lost Nerds.  
> \- Finch was the one to suggest code names.  
> \- Robin’s real name is Tim. He is 100% wearing a Red Robin hoodie with a zip-up hood.  
> \- Their base is called The Birdhouse.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops >_< downside to randomly waking up at 2AM, I end up falling back asleep.

“Hunk, get me those shelves!” Keith yelled, throwing his weight against the hastily constructed barricade holding the door shut. The window shutters, already dented and punctured in places, were creaking ominously. Of all the places to run into a horde, it had to be right at the highway exit ramp. Another few yards head start and they could’ve made the apartment building at the other end of the block. Another minute of time to prepare and they might’ve been able to turn this cheaply made pit stop into something strong enough to dissuade a horde of genetically enhanced killing machines.

“Hunk!” Keith snapped, glaring at his companion. “Quit standing there and help me!”

Hunk’s head was hung into his hands, and he was mumbling something to himself which Keith couldn’t make out over the inhuman screeches from outside. The metal feet of the shelf holding the rest of the makeshift barrier in place screamed against the linoleum floor for an inch before catching on something Keith couldn’t see under the peeled up flooring, and Keith staggered back a step, drawing his sword with one hand. If this was where they died, he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure they went down swinging.

“Hunk, grab your bat.” he said, backing up and gauging the space around him. He’d be able to get in three, maybe four swings before there were too many galra for him to get momentum on his katana to do any real damage. He backed up a few more steps, and spared a second to look at Hunk. “Dude, your bat.” he repeated.

Hunk just shuddered and pressed his hands against his face harder, his mumbling still unintelligible. Keith turned away from the door and slammed his open hand into Hunk’s chest, knocking him back against one of the unmoved shelves. “Get it together, man!” he snapped, giving Hunk a hard shake. His companion’s arms fell, and when Hunk glanced up Keith grabbed his chin to forcibly raise it.

The skin under his hand was cold.

Not slightly cool, like most people were since Keith ran warm, but cold. Same temperature as the shelves cold. Room temperature cold.

Dead cold.

His hand slid to Hunk’s neck, and he felt nothing. No pulse, no breath, nothing at all to suggest that he was holding a living person. Because he wasn’t. There was an almighty crash from the door, and Keith stopped breathing as things seemed to move in slow motion. Yellow flowed across Hunk’s sclera like spilled ink, the dark bruises under his eyes seeming to burst and spread across his skin faster than Keith’s eyes could track. Then the world around him seemed to blur, the ground disappearing from underneath him.

When he opened his eyes, the world was fuzzy, out of focus, and very loud. There were galra screaming nearby, calling down a horde on their location. He had to get up, had to fight, had to- he managed to push himself up slightly from where he’d slid down against a fridge door, then the strongest wave of vertigo he’d ever felt hit him like a cement truck. He slumped back against the door, and groped for his katana. Where was his katana? He didn’t remember dropping it, or hitting the door, but he’d had it just a minute ago.

The galra were getting louder, more and more of them pouring into the tiny gas station building. They were going to kill him, he realized with a detached sense of shock. He was going to get his throat ripped out propped up against a gas station drinks fridge. He was going to die here. Keith closed his eyes, and reached for his knife. At the very least, he was taking one of the bastards with him.

A crash from the aisle in front of him had his eyes flying open, and Keith realized that the screaming had all but stopped. There were only two voices left, if they could be called that. One was making the normal inhuman screech, the other a deeper roar. The two galra were wrestling in the aisle, and Keith noted that the larger one was winning. It ripped the smaller galra’s arms off, screamed in its face, and Keith’s heart jumped in his chest as it smashed the fucker’s head with one double-fisted blow of its bare hands. If there was only one galra left, maybe he and Hunk could get out of here. They might still survive this.

The big galra looked up, and Keith’s heart dropped as the details of the last few minutes came rushing back. Right, that- that was Hunk. The galra rolling to its feet and stalking towards him had, just a few minutes ago, been his travelling companion. His friend, if he dared use the word. And now, now Hunk was stalking towards him with his head held at an odd angle, his fists and forearms and front of his shirt all splattered with bone shards and brain matter and thick, dark blood.

Keith’s stomach turned, and he swallowed the rising bile. No two ways around it: he was about to die. His vision was still blurry at the edges, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, and when he tried to even sit up the world doubled and swam and he felt like he was about to hurl. Hunk lunged, and Keith wasn’t entirely sure how it happened but one second he was slumped against the door and the next he was on his feet, an undeniably human scream echoing back at him from the walls of the looted gas station.

He didn’t want to die. Not like this, not at the hands of someone he trusted with his life. But he couldn’t kill Hunk a week ago, and even now he couldn’t bear the thought of drawing his knife and sinking the blade into his friend’s neck. But Keith wasn’t about to run, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to fight, so that left him with only one option. It was stupid, and he might very well die anyways, but he wasn’t going to raise a weapon to someone he cared about.

Hunk picked himself back up with a growl, and Keith backed up down the nearest aisle, hands out and shaking in front of him. “Hey, Hunk.” a nervous chuckle slipped out of him as he stepped slowly backwards, trying to match Hunk’s shambling pace without tripping over anything. He wasn’t charging anymore, that was good, right?

“You’re still you, right? Still Hunk in there?” his hands shook, whether from adrenaline or fear or hitting his head earlier he couldn’t be sure. “I know I promised I wouldn’t let you hurt anyone.” his heel hit an arm, and he stepped over it carefully. There was no body attached. “But I couldn’t kill you. I didn’t-” Keith stumbled over what might’ve been a head at one point, and his shoulder hit one of the shelves. He wobbled as he pushed himself back upright, one hand still extended towards Hunk palm first.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” he admitted, his voice coming out very strangled and undignified. “Please, Hunk. I don’t-” he stepped back, and his foot slid out from under him, landing him flat on his ass. Hunk stepped closer to him, and Keith flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. If he was lucky, it would be a quick death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, this was one of my favourite scenes to plan and write. Yes, Hunk has been dead for the past three or four, if you count this one). The consequences of this will become evident soon enough ;}


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend putting on [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zR7KErA5bqY) during the second half of this chapter. Once they go sit on the couch would be a good time to start the music.

Keith opened his eyes when a heavy thud made his heels bounce off the floor, and they widened at the sight that greeted him. Hunk was face down on the linoleum at his feet, utterly still, not even breathing. Keith quickly pulled his feet away, and his stomach lurched as he scrambled to his feet but he managed not to lose his lunch. It was dead silent, save for his breathing and the sound of the wind outside. The small building stank of death, and Keith gagged as the stench filled his nose and mouth. He stumbled out the door, over galra corpses so thoroughly dismembered he couldn’t even tell how many there were, and took a deep breath of fresh air.

It felt like it was going to rain soon. In fact, between the dark clouds and cool wind, Keith would’ve been willing to bet on it. He inhaled deeply, and looked around. Not a single galra in sight. He turned around, and steeled himself against the churning fear in his stomach. It was just Hunk. Hunk who hadn’t killed him when he easily could’ve. Hunk who, now that he was thinking about it, had just saved his life. That horde would’ve torn him to pieces, and instead Hunk had, well, torn _them_ to pieces. Keith swallowed a slightly hysterical giggle, took one last breath of clean air, and stepped back into the gas station. He wasn’t going to leave his friend here.

Hauling Hunk over to the apartment building at the end of the block took a lot longer than Keith had thought it would. For starters, Hunk weighed a lot more than he looked like, and he already looked like plenty. But either because of the virus mutating his body to be stronger, or because he’d worked out before everything went to shit, the darker boy was solid fucking muscle. Keith managed it, though. He managed to jimmy a window open in one of the first floor apartments, and it took a few tries but eventually he got inside. From there it was just a matter of unlocking the doors, hauling Hunk into the apartment proper, and finding a way to restrain him until he woke up.

After that, the only thing to do was wait.

\---

Hunk groaned, trying to find a comfortable position without fully waking up. Why was his bed so hard and uncomfortable? Did he fall asleep on Lance again? Hunk pried open one eye, then blinked and squinted around. This wasn’t his dorm. This was a bathroom. He tried to bring a hand down to rub the sleep from his eyes, and found that his hands were tied to something next to his head. Well, that explained why his arms were all numb. Unfortunately, it also raised more questions.

A sound from his right drew his attention, and Hunk turned his head to see Keith in the doorway. Oh, right. That was why he wasn’t in his dorm. It was full of zombies. His college campus was full of zombies, so he was walking home with his new friend Keith. Keith, who was currently standing in the bathroom doorway with his knife drawn and ready.

“Are you going to attack me?” Keith frowned, fingers curling restlessly around the handle of his knife.

“What? No.” Hunk frowned right back at him. He wasn’t the kind of person who would attack his friends, no matter what happened. Like, if they’d done something bad enough to warrant no longer being a friend, then he’d probably sock them for whatever it was they’d done, but Keith hadn’t done anything wrong.

Keith’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled heavily, sinking down until he was kneeling with one shoulder pressed against the door frame. “Thank god.” he breathed, head falling forwards. Why he was so relieved about hearing that, Hunk had no idea. He’d thought that Keith knew by now that he wouldn’t turn on his friends for anything.

“So, uh, can I get untied now?” he asked after a second of silence.

“Not yet.” Keith shook his head, lifting it just enough to meet Hunk’s eyes. “How much do you remember?”

“About what?” Hunk tilted his head.

“About what you did out there.” Keith gestured through the bathroom door, indicating not the adjacent red-wallpapered room but the street outside.

“Uh-” Hunk frowned, wracking his brains for what they’d been doing before he woke up here. “I tripped, and you helped me up, and then we got stuck in a gas station.” his frown deepened. He could remember the screams, the rattling of the window shutters and Keith’s hasty barricade, the bone-chilling terror which had rooted him to the spot, and then... nothing.

“Do you remember what I said to you?” Keith asked, eyes fixed on the knife in his hands as he spun it slowly between his fingers. “Any of it?”

Hunk shook his head. He was pretty sure Keith had grabbed him and yelled something, but that memory was blurry, dim, like trying to recall something that had happened when he was mostly asleep.

“And how long have you been dead.”

Hunk flinched, and looked away from his friend. For some reason, the lack of emotion in Keith’s tone made his question hurt worse than if he’d screamed it in anger. “About a week.” he admitted, curling his knees up towards his chest. “I thought my fever had broken, but then...” he trailed off, unsure where to even start. Realizing that he didn’t have a heartbeat? That he wasn’t the slightest bit sleepy? That he’d woken up with a ravenous hunger which was almost painful to leave unsated?

“Then you _kept_ it from me?” Keith snapped, and Hunk could feel those dark eyes burning holes in him. “You knew you were a galra, and you didn’t tell me. Is there anything else you haven’t been telling me?”

Hunk dared to glance at his friend, and his chest tightened. He’d expected to see Keith looking livid, indignant, maybe even a touch of disdain on his pale, dirty face. He hadn’t expected to see fear. Keith, who was so completely unshakeable in the face of the literal zombie apocalypse, was clutching his knife in a white-knuckled fist and staring at Hunk with wide, desperate eyes. “Yes.” he admitted, looking down at his knees. “I don’t get bothered by temperature anymore. I don’t get tired from walking all day. I don’t need to sleep, or use the bathroom, I’m not even sure I need to breathe.” his stomach clenched, and he swallowed hard. Keith deserved to know everything.

“And, I’m always hungry.”

“So am I.” Keith frowned. “We’re not exactly getting three squares a day.”

“No.” Hunk shook his head. “It’s different.” he curled his knees closer to his chest, as if pressure would do anything to dull the gnawing pain in his abdomen. “It’s like- like normal food gives me energy and tastes good and stuff, but I’m still hungry. No matter how much I eat, it doesn’t go away.” he moved to press a hand to his stomach, and remembered that they were tied to the sink’s drain pipe. “And I know I’m a zombie, and zombies eat...” his stomach twinged with pain, and he curled tighter. No, he wasn’t even going to consider that. He wasn’t a killer, wasn’t a monster. He was still himself.

“Hey, Hunk?”

He looked up, and Keith was kneeling in front of him. “What?”

“I’m going to cut you loose.” he said slowly, keeping his knife in full view. “Hold still for me, okay?”

Hunk nodded, and a minute later was rubbing feeling back into his darkly bruised wrists. Keith had sat down against the opposite wall, but the bathroom was so small their feet nearly touched. Once he could feel his hands again, he wrapped his arms around his curled legs and rested his forehead on his knees. Whatever had happened at the gas station, it had made him turn purple again and managed to get even the unshakeable Keith off balance. Had he done something? He must’ve done something. At some point during that blank stretch in his memory, he’d scared Keith and revealed himself as no longer among the living.

Would Keith want to split up now? It would be the logical choice, and Keith was pretty damn logical. The thought of trying to find his way home on foot from backwater-nowhere Tennessee made his stomach churn, and Hunk groaned into his knees. He just wanted to be home, with his mom and dad and sisters and cousins and the rest of his family. He wished this whole apocalypse thing had never happened. If none of this had happened, he’d still be at school, still be with Lance, still have a _future_.

“Hey, c’mon.” Keith said softly, wrapping a hand around Hunk’s forearm and gently pulling him to his feet. “No point staying on the bathroom floor when there’s a perfectly good couch.”

Hunk let himself be guided to sit on the overstuffed piece of furniture, and blinked in surprise when something warm and heavy was draped around his shoulders. A- blanket? It was thick and soft, with fat fringe along the edges and short pale hairs all over the dark fabric. “Here.” Keith said, holding out a pillow to him. The stained, faded pillowcase was printed with cartoon cats in bright primary colours. He took it and held it to his chest as Keith flopped down on the other end of the couch, similarly equipped with a heavy blanket and pillow. He reached into his bag, and pulled out a fistful of varied food items.

“I just told you those won’t make me any less hungry.” Hunk frowned.

“Yeah, but this is the closest thing we’ve got to comfort food, so this is what you’re getting.” Keith huffed, looking away with an expression Hunk couldn’t read. “Just pick one already.”

Hunk took a jerky stick, and unwrapped it as Keith dropped most of the rest back into his bag. He kept a protein bar, though, and Hunk smiled a bit at that. For a minute, the only sounds were crinkling packaging and quiet chewing as they ate. Then Keith sighed, and Hunk leaned back against the back of the couch.

“You said you don’t remember what I said, right?” Keith asked, glancing over at Hunk. Hunk shook his head. “Do you remember anything else?”

Hunk shook his head again, and fixed his eyes on the scratched, dusty baseboard across from them. “It’s all black. Like I fell asleep.” his toes curled against the inside of his sneakers, and his stomach churned uneasily. He’d definitely done something while he was blacked out.

“Oh.” Keith looked down at the half eaten protein bar in his hand, and if he’d seen Lance curled up with that expression on his face Hunk wouldn’t’ve hesitated to scoot over and throw an arm around his shoulders. But that was with Lance, his best friend and partner. Keith wasn’t Lance, wasn’t hyper-tactile and affection-hungry, wasn’t anything more than a close friend. So Hunk pulled his own blanket tighter around himself, hugged the pillow to his chest, and waited for Keith to say what was on his mind.

“You threw me into the cooler doors.” he said after another few seconds of silence. “I blacked out for a few seconds, and when I came to you were...” he curled tighter around his pillow, fingers of his right hand clutching at the edges of the blanket over his bent knees. “You were holding back the horde. Ripping them to pieces with your bare hands, and making this- this sound. It wasn’t human.” he shuddered.

“Huh.” Hunk looked at the stick of jerky in his hands, and fiddled a bit with the wrapping. If Keith had done that, thrown him into a wall and ripped zombies to pieces while letting out one of those unearthly screams, he’d be too scared to sit as close as the other end of the couch.

“The last galra managed to get past you, somehow.” Keith continued after a brief pause. “It was coming down the aisle at me, and you- you beat it to death right there on the floor.” he chuckled, a strained sound which Hunk couldn’t hear a lick of humour in. “When you got up and came at me, I thought for sure I was getting smashed next. But then, you didn’t. You didn’t hurt me.” Keith looked up, and his dark eyes locked with Hunk’s. “And I realized, I can’t hurt you.”

Hunk frowned, and his confusion must’ve been evident because Keith kept speaking, though he looked away and flushed slightly as he did so. “I know I promised I’d kill you, if you ever turned, but I can’t. You were passed out on the floor, and for all I knew you’d wake up no different from any other galra, but I couldn’t do it.” Keith curled in on himself tighter, digging his chin into the top end of his pillow, and Hunk’s whole chest ached.

Fuck it, he wasn’t going to let a friend suffer alone when he could do something about it. Hunk shrugged off his blanket, let the pillow fall off of his lap onto the floor, and leaned over to grab Keith by the arm. Pulling him close wasn’t hard, and as soon as he was within a reasonable range Hunk slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling Keith into a one-armed hug. Keith twisted to look up at him with wide eyes, his own blanket and pillow abandoned on the other end of the couch, and Hunk managed a grin. “You’re my friend.” he said softly, matching Keith’s earlier volume. “I’d never hurt you.”

Keith flushed an interesting shade of pink, and turned to bury his face in Hunk’s shoulder with an inarticulate sound that was almost a squeak. Hunk chuckled quietly, and leaned his head against Keith’s. In the distance, thunder crashed. Hunk closed his eyes, and breathed slowly in and out through his nose. Despite the stink of blood and sweat and fear which clung to Keith’s skin and clothes, he smelled nice. Hunk hummed quietly, and let himself drift in a contented haze as the smell and sound of rain drifted in from outside.

He cracked open an eye when Keith mumbled something completely unintelligible, and a smile spread across his face. Keith had fallen asleep, and was cuddling closer in his unconsciousness. For once, he even looked peaceful, his face smooth and fingers curled in Hunk’s shirt instead of around the handle of a knife.

Hunk lifted a hand to sleepily stroke Keith’s hair, filthy as it was, and the action earned him a contented sigh. Keith relaxed further against him, and Hunk let his eyes slide closed again. It had only been just over three weeks since they left campus, but it felt like he hadn’t been this relaxed in much longer. Probably since break ended, when he came back to school and Lance, well, didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, I’ve been looking forward to this for the past ten chapters. Cuddling is the best. And this isn’t the last of it, either! Art for this chapter by  planctarium on tumblr. You should totally go like and reblog their work <3


	12. Chapter 12

Keith huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes yet again as he counted out the last of their fruit leather strips. They definitely had enough food to wait out Hunk’s bruises without leaving to find more, but unless they rationed it pretty carefully they’d have to count on finding a store their first day out of this building. Rationing would be annoying, but since they weren’t planning on doing much of anything, and Hunk didn’t strictly _need_ to eat, being a galra and all, he could probably make it work. His bangs fell in his eyes again as he reached for his pencil and made to jot down some more notes on the back of a calendar page, and he blew them out of his face with a sharp exhale.

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Keith frowned, turning to look at Hunk, who was trying to scrub yesterday’s blood and brain matter stains out of his shirt.

“Foofing your hair out of your face.” his friend said, and Keith’s whole chest felt warm just at thinking of Hunk as a friend. “Why not just cut it?”

“Didn’t pack scissors.” Keith shrugged, blowing at his bangs again as he shook out and started counting the multivitamins Hunk had grabbed the second time they stocked up on food. They were starting to run low, and he made a note to grab a bottle if one showed up. Without vegetables in their diet, vitamins were extra important. They at least had dried fruit for some of them, and vitamin D wasn’t a thing they were short on, but calcium and other vitamins weren’t exactly easy to find in the kinds of foods they were eating nowadays.

“I’m gonna look around.” Hunk announced. “See if these people had any decent scissors in the house.”

“Suit yourself.” Keith shrugged, scooping the vitamins back into their bottle and sitting back to look over his list. Having numbers in front of him made it a lot easier to quantify how much food they had left, and he started jotting down vertical strings of digits. Balancing nutrition without straining their resources was a tricky thing, but he thought he was getting the hang of it. So if he swapped out those bars for those... no, but Hunk had complained about that flavour tasting like sawdust, which was why they had so many in the first place.

“Alright.” Hunk said brightly, stepping between Keith and the window. Keith looked up to glare at Hunk, because standing in his light to get his attention was just plain rude, but Hunk just smiled brighter. “Planning can wait. Right now, you’re getting a haircut.”

Keith lifted his hands to pin the back of his hair to his neck. “What? No.”

“Haircut, yes.” Hunk grinned, opening and closing the scissors with a little shh-ik noise. “I’ll even let you use some of that dry shampoo I found. Get the ick out of your hair first.”

Keith lowered his hands. Getting the blood and grease and general gunk out of his hair would probably feel pretty nice. He’d meant to utilise the rain yesterday, but instead he’d slept right through the storm. Hunk was an unfairly comfortable pillow, really. “Can I wash my hair without getting a haircut?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Nope.” Hunk shook his head. “Shampoo treatment comes with a trim.”

“Well, then... fine, but only if you promise not to cut my hair stupid short like yours.” he said firmly, crossing his arms.

“Nah, man.” Hunk shook his head. “I was gonna give you a bowl cut.” he grinned, and brought his other arm out from behind his back, a blue plastic bowl resting in his palm.

“Fuck no!” Keith yelped, shooting to his feet and grabbing for the bowl. Hunk laughed and danced aside, utilising his three inches of extra height to hold it up out of Keith’s reach.

“What? You’d look cute with a bowl cut.” Hunk laughed, feinting forward with the bowl in an attempt to fit it on Keith’s head.

“No, I don’t.” Keith snapped, ducking and backing up quickly, making another grab for the bowl as he went. “I look like a fucking idiot!”

“Oh my god.” Hunk’s eyes shone as he skidded to a stop, his face splitting in a wide smile. “You had a _bowl cut_? When?”

“When I was, like, ten.” Keith huffed, snatching the bowl out of Hunk’s hand and clutching it close to his chest. Hunk could probably pry it free if he tried, but Keith had the bowl now so he’d won the argument.

Hunk giggled, and tucked the scissors in a loop on the side of the leg of his jeans. “I wasn’t going to give you a bowl cut anyways, man.” he smiled, looking completely at ease. “Just planned on trimming your bangs. I’ve watched my aunt cut my cousins’ and sisters’ hair enough times to have an idea of how that works.”

“No bowl cut?” Keith asked, still holding the bowl close to his chest.

“No bowl cut.” Hunk grinned, holding out a hand. “Pinkie promise.”

Keith looped his little finger around Hunk’s notably bigger little finger, and felt a grin pulling at his lips. For all that he’d just been worried about looking like a complete tool, he wasn’t quite as stressed about their food situation anymore. He had a feeling that might’ve been Hunk’s intention with the bowl, but even he knew better than to call that out.

“Pinkie promise.” he echoed, letting his hand drop. “Now, you said you were gonna let me use your dry shampoo?”

“Oh no.” Hunk shook his head. “Shampoo treatment. You’re gonna sit on the edge of the tub and I’m gonna work the shampoo in. Like at one of those fancy beauty parlors.”

Keith had seen people getting their hair washed before a cut at the cheap-ass chain salons his foster parents took him to, but if Hunk wanted to pretend to be a stylist at a swanky salon then Keith wasn’t going to burst his bubble. It was kinda fun, having someone being excited around him. New, and a little weird, but a good kind of weird.

Later, after a lengthy argument about how long his hair should be in front vs. in back, Keith leaned back against the edge of the tub and let Hunk drag a thick-bristled brush through his hair, pulling out any stray bits which may have gotten stuck after being trimmed off. It felt nice, much nicer than his usual de-tangling method of fingers or a cheap plastic comb. Keith wasn’t sure if he should attribute it to the brush though, or to Hunk. Despite being purple, and insanely strong, and literally a galra, Hunk didn’t feel like a threat.

“All done.” Hunk said brightly, and Keith opened his eyes as he tilted his head back.

“How do I look?”

“Well, you made me keep the mullet, so-” Keith smacked the side of Hunk’s head, drawing out a laugh that made him want to smile back. “You look fine.” Hunk amended.

“I can return the favour, if you want.” Keith said, gesturing at Hunk’s bangs.

“Nah.” Hunk shook his head. “I’ll wait ‘til we get to Evans. My aunt’s always cut my hair. ”

“Well, that explains a few things.” Keith grinned. Hunk squawked, and shoved on his head.

“Rude!”

Keith laughed, and shoved back.


	13. Chapter 13

Keith’s stomach growled, and Hunk whimpered next to him, slumping on his shoulder with an unintelligible whine. A week ago, Keith would’ve called his friend a big baby for complaining about being hungry when they hadn’t even gone a day without food yet. Now, though, knowing that Hunk was hungry literally all the time, Keith was privately impressed that he hadn’t made a single sound of complaint before now.

“Hey, can you make out that sign?” Hunk asked, pointing across the six lane road towards a building at the back of a massive parking lot. It had green text over what Keith assumed was the main entrance, a bit difficult to make out in the fog but...

“That’s a Publix.” he grinned, and Hunk pushed off of his shoulder.

“Food!” he yelled, punching both arms in the air as he started towards the superstore at a brisk jog.

“It doesn’t even do anything for you, you asshole!” Keith yelled after him, reflexively checking for galra before starting after his friend. He reached the doors just a few steps behind Hunk, and pulled out the flashlight he’d grabbed on their first looting trip. Its beam revealed several sets of footprints in the dust on the floor, and Keith panned it over the shelves. All empty, save an extra wide one in the middle. Every inch of this place screamed trap, but they didn’t have even half rations for tonight and it was unlikely they would find another store before they had to stop for the day.

“Stay on guard.” Keith hissed as Hunk started into the store. “It’s probably a trap.”

“You’re so suspicious.” Hunk scoffed as Keith followed him into the single stocked aisle. The boxes on the shelves were clearly empty at this distance, only there to lead people towards the back of the store. “There’s footprints going in _and_ out.” Hunk continued as Keith panned his flashlight down the aisle, half expecting the beam of light to fall on a lone galra posed dramatically in the middle of the floor, because that was what their lives had become. Instead, he saw carts piled high with the contents of the shelves. “Lots of different ones too, and I may be an amateur but it didn’t look like they were leaving in a hurry. If it’s a trap, it’s not a dangerous one.”

“I gue-” a loud **BANG** cut Keith off, and he felt something hot pass through his hair dangerously close to the back of his neck. A fraction of a second later he heard the sound of a bullet striking the floor, followed almost instantaneously by vicious clanging from the lower shelf off to his left and Hunk yelping in alarm.

“Flashlights on the ground, and hands where I can see them.” a voice from the darkness demanded. Hunk’s light hit the ground with a clatter, and his hands were in the air in under a second.

“We don’t want any trouble.” he said quickly. “Just need enough supplies to make it to the next store.”

“Wait, Hunk?”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he swung his flashlight towards the source of the sound. A lanky figure in a loose hoodie dropped down from atop one of the shelves, and Hunk rushed forwards faster than Keith had seen him move since the gas station incident. “Lance!” he cried out, scooping the gunman up in a bear hug. The shorter boy was laughing, and Keith could’ve sworn he saw this Lance guy kiss Hunk on the nose when he was set down.

“I heard about Baltimore. How did you get out?” Lance asked breathlessly, pulling out of Hunk’s hug and dropping his gun to keep a hand on each forearm.

“I almost didn’t.” Hunk shook his head. “Woulda died right there in class if Keith hadn’t grabbed me.” Hunk gestured at Keith, and Lance turned to grin at him.

“Thanks for getting my man outta there in one piece.” he said, holding out a hand. Keith didn’t walk forward to accept it.

“You almost _shot_ me.”

“Psh.” Lance waved his hand dismissively. “I only shot your mullet, and that thing _deserves_ to die.”

Keith bristled, and swung the beam of his flashlight towards the carts of food. “C’mon, Hunk.” he said sharply, starting down the aisle again. “Let’s resupply and get out of here. I think I saw a semi down the road that we can crash in tonight.”

“Where you heading?” Lance asked, and Keith opened his mouth to snap that it was none of his damn business but Hunk beat him to the punch.

“Home.” his friend said, smile audible in his voice. “You?”

“Wandering, mostly.”

“You should come with us! My parents’d love to meet you.”

Keith gripped his flashlight tighter, and set his bag down as loudly as he could without actively slamming it into the floor. He’d thought Hunk was his friend, maybe more given the way they’d been falling asleep together every night for the past week or so, but then he went and did this? Inviting someone who’d almost _killed_ him to travel with them? He stuffed his bag with the usual assortment of travelling food, zipped it, and had it slung over his shoulders before Hunk had even dug out his first box.

“I’m gonna go watch the door.” he said sharply.

“Oh, good idea.” Hunk grinned, as if he wasn’t standing next to someone who would’ve happily shot Keith’s head off a few minutes ago. “Lance and I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Sure, whatever.” Keith huffed, and started for the front of the store. How stupid had he gotten, thinking he was important enough to anyone that they’d want to protect him? Hunk was just his ticket into a safe town. Once they were there, nobody had said he had to stay with Hunk’s family.

\---

“What’s his problem?” Lance asked as Keith stormed off towards the front doors. Hunk sighed, and handed his super-platonic sorta-boyfriend the flashlight to hold while he dug through the cart of food.

“I think he’s pissed about almost getting shot.” Hunk rolled his eyes. For all that Lance was a people person, he could be surprisingly dense at times. “I know I would be.” he added after a moment, a grin flickering across his face as he pulled out a box of trail mix bars, the special version with cashews that Keith liked. He dropped it in his bag, and kept rummaging.

“It was just a warning shot.” Lance huffed, the flashlight beam swinging away for a moment as he crossed his arms. “It’s not like I was trying to actually hit him.”

“Yeah, but Keith is touchy about shit like that.” Hunk shrugged, dropping another few boxes in his backpack. 

“Eh, he’ll get over it.” Lance smiled, stepping close and draping himself over Hunk’s back. “Don’t think I’m getting over you any time soon, though.”

Hunk chuckled, and tilted his head to press against partner’s. Classic Lance. Not even the apocalypse could dampen his sorta-boyfriend’s spirits. “Me either.” he grinned, reaching up to run a hand through Lance’s hair. It was as soft as ever, “I still can’t believe you’re here.” he murmured, pausing in his search for good travelling food to weave his fingers into the soft brown locks. “When you didn’t come back after break, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Lance said softly, tucking his face against Hunk’s shoulder and sliding his arms around his middle. “Everything was just, so fucked up.”

Hunk’s chest tightened, and he turned his head to press a kiss to Lance’s temple. “But you’re here now.” he replied, keeping his voice low. “We’re here. We’re together. We’re-” he stopped short of saying ‘alive’ and sighed, nuzzling into Lance’s hair. “We’re going to have a pissed-off Keith coming to drag me out of here by the hair if I don’t get my bag packed in the next few minutes.” he mused instead, earning a laugh.

“I can come with, right? Keith’s not gonna stab me or anything?”

Hunk chuckled as Lance released him from the hug and pushed off of his back, shaking his head. “Keith only gets knife-happy when we’re up against zombies.”

“Oh thank god, you call them zombies.” Lance sighed dramatically, pressing his free hand to his chest. “I’ve had people calling ‘em dead heads, walkers, freaks, basically everything _but_ what they are.”

“Tell me about it.” Hunk rolled his eyes, grabbing a pack of pudding cups and dropping them in his bag. That was about as much as it’d hold and still zip, it looked like. “Keith’s been refusing to call them zombies since day one.”

“Oh my god.” Lance laughed, hiding a smile behind his free hand. “How do you stand him?”

“Well it’s not like we talk about them that much, y’know? And Keith’s a pretty cool dude.”

“If you say so.” Lance shrugged. “Hey, can you haul these towards the door?” he tapped the handle of one of the carts. “I’m gonna grab my bag.”

“No problem.” Hunk grinned, giving Lance a thumbs up. Keith and Lance seemed like they would get along well enough, given some time to warm up to each other. Travelling with two of his best friends would be fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to his rifle, Lance has a small caliber handgun and a metal hockey stick. This boy has seen enough zombie movies to know how to arm himself. Art by [Wakatoshiu](http://wakatoshiu.tumblr.com/post/157480381137) on tumblr. Go give ‘em some love, they’re incredible.


	14. Chapter 14

Travelling with his two best friends, Hunk quickly discovered, was not as fun as he’d thought it would be. That first night, Lance had curled up next to Hunk like he always had back at college and Keith had been sullen and silent for most of the next morning. The second day, the two of them had gotten into an argument about whether or not Lance should share his food. Lance had ended that one by stuffing the entire strip of jerky in his mouth, which would’ve been funny if it hadn’t made Keith angry enough to storm off ahead in a huff.

By the third day, it had gotten to the point where Keith was snapping at Lance for so much as looking at him funny. It was like being on a road trip with toddlers, honestly, and Hunk could say that from experience. All they needed now was an “I'm not touching you” argument and his friends would be just as mature at eighteen as his sisters had been at four.

“So, how’d you end up with a hockey stick anyways?” Hunk asked, trying to get a conversation going which wouldn’t fizzle out like his earlier attempts had. “You can’t even skate.”

Lance grinned and bounced the heavy pole on his shoulder, giving the stick a little spin. “Found it in a sports shop. Coulda gone with a baseball bat, but even the pros break those things on baseballs and it’s like, I’m not gonna make my last line of defense a twenty dollar stick. No offense.” he gestured to the bat hanging from the side of Hunk’s backpack.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Hunk waved his hand dismissively. “I grabbed the most expensive one I could find. It was, like, a hundred bucks?” he shrugged. “Hasn’t busted on me yet.”

“How ‘bout you, Samurai?” Lance called forward to Keith, walking a few yards ahead of them. “How much was that sword worth?”

“More than your dumb stick.” Keith fired back.

“You don’t even know how much this thing woulda cost, mullet head.” Lance frowned petulantly.

“Trust me.” he said flatly, turning on his heel and walking backwards, left hand resting on the hilt of his katana. “My sword is worth more.”

“This thing is worth, like, two hundred bucks!” Lance exclaimed, lifting the hockey stick from his shoulder and waving it in the air. “I’ve seen swords like yours going for, like, twenty.”

“Yeah, but those are cheap pieces of shit.” Keith slid his hand down the shiny wood sheath of his sword. “This is an _actual_ katana. It’s worth three grand, minimum.”

“Three-” Lance’s eyes fairly bugged out of his head. “You’re shitting me!”

“Nope.” Keith smirked. “Hunk saw the price tag too, he can back me up.”

“It said market price.” Hunk frowned.

“And market price, for an actual katana, is three to five thousand.” Keith said smugly. “Why do you think it didn’t fucking shatter before I had the chance to sharpen it?”

“Just for the record, I don’t believe you.” Lance said as Keith turned back around to face forward.

“Too bad.” Keith said curtly. “Truth is still truth, whether you believe it or not.”

Lance grumbled under his breath, and Hunk sighed. Was one civil conversation too much to ask?

\---

Keith fell back against the door panting, and slowly slid to the ground with a groan. His legs felt like wet cement, and his left arm felt weirdly numb from the shoulder down. He might’ve dislocated it. Hunk hit the floor next to him with a much louder wheezing groan, and Keith gave his friend a quick once-over. One of his pants pockets was shredded, and his shirt was history, but aside from some minor grazes he seemed unharmed. Keith turned his head slightly, and his eyes narrowed as they fell on Lance.

Lance’s heavy hoodie was in tatters, one sleeve ripped entirely off below the orange stripe where a galra had gotten its teeth in the fabric. The fact that they’d gotten out of that horde alive, or in one piece in Hunk’s case, was a miracle unto itself. Keith pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stab of pain from his half-twisted ankle, and stalked across the small apartment as well as he could while limping. Lance’s shirt was sticky in his right hand when he grabbed it, soaked by a spray of thick dead blood which decorated his neck and the side of his face in red so deep it was nearly black.

“What. The _hell_. Was that.” Keith spat, pulling Lance up and slamming him against the wall.

“What was what?” Lance asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“You damn well know what!” Keith yelled, pulling him away from the wall and slamming him back into it. “You were going to stay behind and let the horde get you!”

“I would’ve been fine.” Lance scowled, yanking Keith’s hand free of his shirt and putting some distance between them. “That’s why I told you two to run.”

“And what if you’d been infected?” Keith challenged, stepping close enough to jab a finger into Lance’s chest. “Are you really selfish enough to think Hunk wouldn’t care about you _dying_ for him?”

“Guys, please.” Hunk wheezed, pushing himself up into something resembling a sitting position.

“No, Hunk.” Keith snapped, hands curling into fists. “I’m not letting this asshole make you miserable. And if that means keeping him alive, then I’ll beat some sense into him myself if I have to.”

“I’m going to check out the other apartments.” Lance said brusquely, turning on his heel and heading towards the door Hunk was still sitting in front of.

“No, you’re not.” Keith reached out and caught Lance by one thin wrist, pulling him back around to glare at. “You’re-” he paused, and looked down at where his palm was pressed to Lance’s skin. Lance’s cold, dry skin. The dark bruises under his eyes, the nibbling at his meals, it made perfect sense. Just like the way sickly yellow was pulsing into the whites of his eyes, his pupils constricting as an inhuman growl rumbled out of his throat.

“You’re dead.” Keith breathed, releasing Lance’s wrist and taking a step back. He reached for his knife with his left hand, and winced as pain shot through his whole arm. Yep, definitely dislocated. He could really feel it now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Lance’s pupils suddenly widened, and he staggered back a step, hands flying up to cover his eyes.

“Chingado! Puta madre, mierda, maldita sea.” Lance blurted, bruised purple fingers digging into his forehead. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-” he gasped, momentum carrying him back into the corner. “I just- I’ll leave. I won’t- I’d never- I’m sorry.” he sank down against the walls, shaking slightly.

Keith looked over at Hunk, who had managed to push himself to his feet. Hunk nodded solemnly, and Keith followed him towards the corner, where Lance was still babbling half apologies and promises to leave. Hunk knelt in front of Lance, and Keith crouched at his friend’s side. The purple had spread almost to Lance’s wrists when Hunk grabbed one, and Keith wrapped his fingers around the other.

“Hey, Lance?” Hunk said softly, peeling Lance’s hand away from his face. The yellowing had turned the blue of Lance’s eyes an unpleasant green, and his pupils were small enough that Keith could tell it hadn’t gotten all the way in yet. “It’s okay.” Hunk guided Lance’s hand to his chest. Keith didn’t bother mimicking that gesture, simply keeping a gentle grip on Lance’s wrist.

“You’re-” Lance looked from his hand on Hunk’s chest to Hunk’s face, and Keith couldn’t help but smile a little bit as Hunk nodded.

“Same as you.”

“But Keith...”

“I don’t really care.” Keith shrugged, releasing Lance’s wrist to sit back on his heels. “As long as neither of you try to take a bite out of me, we’re cool.”

“Mmmm.” Lance conspicuously looked Keith up and down, even as he threaded his fingers with Hunk’s. “I mean, you do almost look good enough to eat, but that mullet is a bit-”

Keith smacked him on the side of the head, and Lance chuckled. “Kidding, kidding. Though if you’re not scared of zombies, I wouldn’t mind having certain bits of you in my mouth.” he waggled his eyebrows.

“Really?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna proposition me in front of Hunk.” he wasn’t entirely sure what Lance was to his friend, but they were more than just roommates or besties. 

“Hunk’s okay with it, right babe?” Lance grinned.

“What?” Hunk frowned. “Sorry, I was thinking about... something else.” he shook his head. “What was the question?”

“Nothing.” Keith rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his knees and standing up. “Just Lance being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Lance pouted, crossing his arms. “I was an honour student, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re still an idiot sometimes.” Hunk chuckled. Lance let out an indignant squawk, and Keith felt a smile tugging at his lips as he watched the pair start tussling. Being locked in an apartment with two galra should probably bother him, but Hunk was Hunk and Lance was, well, Lance. They weren’t going to hurt him.

Keith wasn’t sure why he was so certain of that, but he was. It didn’t make Lance any less of an ass, but it answered questions Keith hadn’t even realized he had. Now he just needed answers for the questions he knew.


	15. Chapter 15

Lance leaned back against the couch and exhaled slowly, letting his eyes slide shut. It had been a long while since he felt warmth which wasn’t from the sun or ambient air temperature. The propane lantern Hunk had found wasn’t exactly a radiator, but it put out enough heat that he couldn’t stop himself from holding his hands out toward it. Keith sat back and capped his pen, setting his notebook down on the floor. “Okay.” he said, pulling Hunk’s attention from a trashy romance novel he’d found in the bedroom.

“Done already?”

“The boxes have content counts on them. Makes it faster.” Keith shrugged. “With our current supplies, at full rations we can go about a week before we need to hit up another store.”

A week? Lance felt his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. Keith was skinny as hell, and some of those protein bars had enough calories Hunk could’ve eaten one for lunch and been good until dinner. “Are you sure you counted those right?” he asked. “That many bars, you should be good for at least two weeks. Maybe three.”

“Well, yeah. If it was just me.” Keith frowned. “But you and Hunk need to eat too, and your bag doesn’t look like it’s got much in the way of foodstuffs packed in there.”

“Yeah, no, it doesn’t.” Lance sat forwards. “But Hunk and I don’t need to eat as often as you do.”

“You sure about that?” Hunk frowned, confusion furrowing his brow. “Because I’m hungry, like, literally all the time, and it’s extra bad when we’re on half rations.”

Lance’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me you’re travelling with a living human, and you’re _hungry_?”

“Um, yes?” Hunk’s frown deepened. “I mean, jerky helps a little bit but I figured it’s just, like, a side effect of being dead?”

“Kinda, but-” Lance frowned, realizing he was missing a very important piece of information. “Hunk, how long have you been a zombie?”

“Galra.” Keith said insistently. Lance ignored him, focusing on his boyfriend.

“Um, about three weeks?” Hunk said sheepishly. Lance whistled a low note. Three weeks, and he hadn’t taken a bite out of Keith? Hadn’t even tried to, if the mullet head’s earlier comment was any indication. “Does it make a difference?”

“A bit.” Lance said, sitting back against the couch again. “And you’ve never had a blackout?”

“No.” Hunk shook his head.

“Yes.” Keith said at the same time. Hunk looked at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Back at the gas station, remember?” Keith prompted. “Or, well, I guess you wouldn’t.” he chuckled awkwardly.

“Wait, wait.” Lance waved a hand in front of his chest. “You were there when he went full zombie-”

“ _Galra_.”

“And you didn’t die?” Lance continued, ignoring Keith’s insistent correction.

“For a second I thought I was going to.” Keith leaned back on his hands, looking into the lantern. “But once Hunk took out the horde, he kinda collapsed.” he looked over and elbowed Hunk in the ribs. “Had to drag his ass half a city block before any more galra showed up.”

Lance opened his mouth, then closed it again. A zombie didn’t stop until everything around it was dead, that’s how it worked. His stomach churned, and he drew his knees up close to his chest. “And lemme guess, this was less than a week after he turned?”

“Something like a week since.” Keith shrugged. “What, is that how long it took you to have one?”

Lance swallowed hard, and looked down at the lantern. It was so bright it almost hurt to look at, but the afterimages were better than the memories which threatened to overwhelm him when he closed his eyes. “Hunk and I, we can’t survive on human food. Not anymore.” he said after a few seconds of silence. “It doesn’t do much for us, and no matter how much of it we eat we still need to feed at least once a week or we start getting blackouts.”

“But Hunk’s been just fine on the same food as me the whole time.” Keith frowned, gesturing at Hunk with one hand.

“Wait.” Hunk said before Lance could retort, the pieces obviously coming together in his head. “If human food doesn’t do anything for you... why were you in that grocery store?”

And, there it was. “I was hunting.” he said bluntly, automatically reaching to touch his rifle stock and pistol grip. The feel of them against his fingers was comforting, an assurance that he wasn’t at the mercy of whoever he happened to come across.

“Hunting?” Keith frowned, obviously confused. Lance glanced at Hunk, then back at the lantern. His boyfriend looked horrified, and rightly so. Last time he’d seen Hunk before everything went wrong, Lance would’ve said he would rather die than taken another person’s life. Now...

“In theory, we can eat zombie flesh.” he said, filling the silence which had fallen over the apartment. “But it’s not good. It tastes like death, and the blackouts afterwards are-” he shuddered, involuntarily recalling the scene he’d woken up to after thinking he could get clever and avoid hurting anyone.

“So you, hunt, people?” Hunk asked awkwardly. “How do you...” he trailed off uncomfortably, and Lance pulled his knees closer to his chest.

“Decide who to eat?”

“Yeah, that.” Hunk nodded stiffly.

“I don’t hurt kids, if that’s what you’re wondering.” he said, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Or anybody who comes in with a group. Loners only.”

“Wait, then what was that potshot at me?” Keith demanded.

“It wasn’t a potshot, it was a warning shot.” Lance retorted.

“It went _through_ my hair.” Keith insisted, gesturing to his mullet as if Lance could possibly forget trying to shoot it clean off his head. Sadly it hadn’t worked, because cartoon physics were bullshit, but still.

“Yeah. Warning shot.” Lance grinned. Keith bounced a carabiner off his forehead. “Nothing personal, really.” he held up his hands. “I find a warning shot to a group helps make sure they don’t try to steal all of my bait.” he paused, mouth pulling into a lopsided frown. “Or, made sure they didn’t, I guess.”

“That still seems, kinda wrong.” Hunk said softly.

“Lions and antelopes, man.” Lance pulled up a grin. “We gotta eat.” he gestured at Keith. “Honestly, I’m impressed you’ve gone this long without trying to take a bite out of Human McHot-ass.”

“Excuse me?” Keith pulled his head back, face scrunching in a frown Lance hadn’t seen before.

heard me.” Lance kept grinning. “I’m surprised Hunk hasn’t tried to take a bite outta you yet. You’re only human, after all, and Hunk’s not as discerning about appearances as I am so I’m sure you look perfectly edible to him.”

Keith scowled, and leaned forward to smack Lance on the side of the head.

“Wait...” Hunk’s mouth pulled down in a confused frown. “So, if it’d been you and me, and I was human... what would you have done?”

Lance felt his grin falter, and smiled harder. “Taken a chunk out of you after the first week.”

“Okay, all that aside.” Keith waved his hand dismissively as Hunk spluttered. “You try to eat me, I’m taking your head off. If I don’t have to account for feeding you, our supplies will last a few more days.”

“I mean, you don’t have to feed Hunk either.” Lance gestured at his boyfriend. “I can hunt for the both of us, and you’ll have all the protein bars to yourself.”

“I think I’ll stick with the protein bars.” Hunk said, looking queasy. Keith didn’t look much better.

“Suit yourself.” Lance shrugged, leaning back against the couch. His smile faded, and he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. What little food supply he’d built up in the first week of camping that Publix was already gone, and the hunger was coming back as strong as ever. He didn’t have long before he tripped over into a blackout, and the thought of killing his boyfriend in a fit of blind hunger, waking up to find another corpse looking up at the sky with that shocked, confused expression... He couldn't do it, it would destroy him. If he hadn't found prey by the end of tomorrow, he would have to strike out on his own again.


	16. Chapter 16

Hunk’s stomach felt like it should be growling. The insatiable hunger had been almost unbearable since last week, when Lance fucked off for a few hours and came back with his bag close to bursting, the smell of fresh cooked meat heavy in the air around him. It had hurt, but Hunk had endured. He’d lasted this long without hurting Keith, he wasn’t going to snap now. But tonight Lance had come back with raw meat. Raw meat which he was currently cooking on a grill they’d found on this apartment’s little balcony. Meat which smelled more delicious than anything Hunk could remember eating, better than his grandma’s pies or his dad’s burgers or his mom’s pancakes.

He pressed a hand to his stomach, and snuck a look at Lance on the balcony. His sorta-boyfriend had found a frilly pink apron and bright blue chef hat with colourful fish printed on it, and was wearing both as he flipped the meat on the grill. He was humming something, a disjointed little tune Hunk didn’t recognize, and the sound drifted inside with the smell of food. God, it smelled good. How long had it been since he’d had real food? More than a month, but aside from that he wasn’t sure. Keith would know, he kept track with that little pocket calendar of his. But Keith was pawing through the kitchen cabinets of the other apartments on this floor in search of supplies while Hunk hung their dirty clothes up to dry and tried to beat the worst of the grime off of them.

“Aaand, done!” Lance said brightly as the heady smell of barbecue filled the room. God, he was so hungry... “Hunk, babe, grab me the tin foil out of my bag?”

“Huh?” Hunk shook his head, dragging himself back to the present. What was he thinking? He wasn’t going to eat meat that had been a living, breathing human earlier today.

“Tin foil.” Lance repeated, setting the tray of barbecue down on the kitchen table and moving over to rummage in the cupboards for tableware. “It’s in the same pocket as my clothes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Hunk grabbed Lance’s bag, and fished out a long, very light box of tin foil. “Here, catch.” he lobbed it at Lance underhand, and Lance caught it without even looking.

“Thanks.” Lance grinned, tucking the foil under his arm as he pulled a fork and knife from the drawer they were in, wiping them on his shirt before grabbing the plate he’d put on the counter.

Hunk’s stomach panged again, and he swallowed the sudden welling of saliva in his mouth. That was human flesh. The pile of meat on the table had been a person earlier today. A person who was no longer alive because Lance had shot them in the head and carved them open and _god_ Hunk was going to lose it if he had to keep smelling fresh food and not eating it. Lance whistled quietly to himself as he ripped squares of foil and laid them out on the table, occasionally doing a little spin or hip shimmy. It was adorable, and if Hunk’s heart had still been beating it would’ve definitely fluttered in his chest a little at the sight.

“Ah, dammit, I forgot the bridge.” Lance huffed, falling abruptly still for a second before he went back to ripping foil squares. “How’s the laundry looking?”

Hunk shook his head doggedly, and looked down at the bags he was still working on. Keith’s still halfway full, and Lance’s completely untouched. “I should be done by sunset.” he sighed, bending to grab another one of Keith’s black shirts. Seriously, entire stores to choose from and he chose to get the most boring basic clothes? Sure they weren’t exactly trying to impress anyone, but that made wearing stupid shit all the more fun. Hunk glanced at his own obnoxiously loud 80’s-style tee and grinned. Lance complained incessantly when he wore it, which was honestly the best thing.

“Well, so long as you’re done before Stabby McMullet finishes his foraging I think you’re good.”

Hunk snorted, pulling a pair of Keith’s pants out and tossing them over the makeshift line. “Stabby McMullet?”

“What, you want me to call him Human McHot-Ass again?” Lance grinned as he started moving the pieces of barbecue to the squares of foil. “Because I’ll totally call Keith that to his face. He makes the best expressions when I do that.”

“I think if you call him that to his face too many more times, he might actually stab you.” Hunk chuckled. Lance shrugged.

“I mean, idunno if you’ve noticed, but you an’ me heal pretty damn quick. It’d hurt like a bitch, but unless he gets me in the spine or brain stem I’ll be fine.” he placed the last piece of barbecue on its foil square, and started wrapping it up.

Hunk couldn’t help but follow the motions of Lance’s hands with his eyes, the ever-present hunger flaring in intensity again. No. He shook his head. He wouldn’t. Eating people, even after they’d been butchered and barbecued and smelled so good they made his mouth water, was wrong and monstrous and he wouldn’t sink to that level. He wouldn’t become a monster like- like Lance. But, no, Lance wasn’t a monster. Lance was his super-platonic sorta-boyfriend. Lance was like him, dead but still himself. He’d just, chosen to kill and eat people.

Hunk slumped forward with a quiet groan, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn’t right, it was fucked up beyond belief, but he wanted a piece of the barbecued human flesh Lance was currently wrapping up. If Lance was to be believed, it would sate the gnawing hunger he’d been ignoring for the past few weeks. The hunger which, lately, had been getting harder to ignore. Harder to put it out of mind and act like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t a walking corpse, like he hadn’t almost killed Keith back in that gas station. The fact that he didn’t eat humans was one of the very, very few things separating him from the mindless hordes outside.

“Hunk?” Lance’s footsteps were soft on the cheap wooden floor. “Hey, are you okay babe?” his fingers brushed Hunk’s wrist, warm enough to feel alive compared to his dead skin, and trailed down to weave in between Hunk’s in a gentle grip. The scent of barbecue clung to him, and Hunk was absurdly reminded of the copious amounts of cologne his sorta-boyfriend had put on for dates with random girls before they got together. “You can always talk to me.” Lance said softly, free hand coming up and cupping Hunk’s face. It wasn’t as warm as his other hand, which was rapidly cooling anyways, but the motion brought the smell of food closer.

Hunk swallowed, trying to quell the inhuman growl he could feel building in his chest. He wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. But wanting was as bad as doing, when it was more than just a passing thought, and he was so hungry...

“Hunk, please.” Lance caressed his face, thumb sliding over his cheek. “Talk to me? I can get Keith, if you’d rather-”

“I’m hungry.” Hunk gasped, and he wasn’t quite sure when he’d stopped breathing but now he was again and all he could smell was the scent of food. Real food, fresh food, not the dry bland bullshit he and Keith had been surviving on for, god, over a month now. “I’m so hungry.” his voice shook as he gripped Lance’s hand tighter, eyes still clenched shut. “It hurts, and I can’t- I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“Oh.” Lance’s voice was low, subdued, and then his hand left Hunk’s face to wrap around his wrist. “C’mon, sit down with me.” he said, leading Hunk towards the couch. The cushions were old and thin, and Lance settled against his side like they were still normal students trying to do their English Lit readings together in the library. “I tried to hold out too, at first.” he said, running his thumb over Hunk’s knuckles. “I thought I could die properly, maybe, if I didn’t give in.”

Hunk’s eyes flew open at that, and Lance chuckled. “It’s okay, babe. I’m still here.” he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Hunk’s cheek, then looked back down at their joined hands. “And once I ate? Well, it was gross as hell because I was starving and didn’t bother with cooking or utensils, but once I was done? I felt better. Stronger. A little more alive.” he looked up, and his smile was just as warm and disarming as it had ever been. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like to hurt people. So let me do that part.” he disentangled one of his hands from Hunk’s, and lifted it to brush his bangs aside. “Let me take care of you.”

Hunk nodded, and Lance pulled him down for a forehead kiss. “I’ll grab another plate. You just sit here, alright? Then we can get the laundry hung up together.”

Hunk nodded again, and took the plate when it was offered to him a minute later. This had been a person, he thought as he looked at the meat before him. This hunk of flesh had been someone with hopes and dreams. Someone Lance had killed.

“It’s got nothing on your cooking, but it’s not burnt, so I think I did alright.” Lance joked, flopping down next to Hunk and cutting a piece off of his meal. “But hey, a second opinion from my favourite chef wouldn’t be unappreciated.” 

Hunk chuckled, and cut a bite sized piece off of his own serving of barbecued human. He couldn’t turn back after this. Couldn’t undo this step towards becoming a monster. But, Lance wasn’t a monster. Lance was different than he’d been before break, but so was Hunk. They weren’t students anymore. Hell, they weren’t even strictly _human_ anymore. Lance had killed people, eaten people, had probably been doing it for a while given how he talked about it. If that didn’t make Lance a monster, then... then eating something to make the ever-present gnawing sensation in his stomach go away wouldn’t make him a monster, right?

Hunk closed his eyes, and shoved the piece of meat in his mouth. His eyes watered, and Lance made a concerned sound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Hunk nodded, swallowing the meat in his mouth. After a month of protein bars and trail mix and jerky, even Lance’s over-seasoned attempt at barbecue was delicious. He nearly swallowed the rest of it whole, and Lance chuckled as he sat up straight.

“I take it I did something right?”

“Not really.” Hunk said around a mouthful of meat, swallowing quickly when he saw Lance’s grin drop. “I mean, it’s over-seasoned but the cooking itself is perfect. Just-” his stomach did that weird thing again where it felt like it should’ve been growling, and Hunk looked back at his nearly empty plate. “I’ve been hungry for a long time.”

“It’s okay.” Lance smiled, soft and fond and everything Hunk adored about him. “It gets easier.”

Hunk swallowed the last of his dinner, and leaned back against the worn-out couch with a sigh. He was still a little hungry, but it wasn’t as bad anymore. Wasn’t painful or distracting or urgent. It was just, normal. Like in their first days out of Baltimore, when he was still getting used to subsisting entirely on travel food. Lance leaned up against his side, and Hunk relaxed slightly as his platonic sorta-boyfriend ate his meal. With the light fading, it wouldn’t be long until Keith called it a night and came back for diner. Then they’d all be together, safe.

Maybe tonight he’d manage to get Keith to sleep next to him again. He kinda missed having his own personal furnace, and from the way Keith slept when left alone he would bet his friend missed the contact too. He just had to figure out how to convince him that it was okay...


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening for this chapter: [Somewhere only we know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mer6X7nOY_o) by Lily Allen.

Keith woke slowly, awareness tugging him inch by inch out of the heavy tide of sleep. The light hitting his closed eyelids was dim, probably pale. The only sounds he could hear were breathing, snoring, the distant barking of stray dogs. The air drifting in through the window they’d opened last night was warm, slightly humid. Lance would spend hours complaining about his hair once they set out. He was on something soft, a bed, with one of his arms thrown over a familiar form. He smiled slightly, and ducked his head to press against Hunk’s shoulder.

His friend was snoring quietly, one leg hooked around Keith’s ankle and one arm under his neck and pillow. It had been a little weird, the first couple times he woke up tangled with another guy, but he’d gotten used to it pretty quick. An arm tightened around his waist and Keith tensed for a heartbeat before remembering. Lance. Lance had taken up cuddling up on his other side, since he’d been pulled back into sleeping next to Hunk. Lance had an arm around his waist, a slender leg hooked over his hip and then back so there was a foot between his thighs, and his face was pressed into Keith’s hair at the back of his neck. His other arm went under Keith’s pillow behind his head, and Keith could feel that sometime in the night his two travelling companions had wound their fingers together.

It should’ve been weird, sleeping between two guys who were, as Hunk put it, ‘platonically dating’, but it didn’t. It just felt, warm. Not physically, since they were both sorta dead, but it made something in his chest feel like that propane lantern they’d found a week or so back. Hot and bright and comforting. He’d watched Hunk tear galra limb from limb with his bare hands. Sat next to Lance as he prepared and ate flesh carved from a human corpse. Watched both their eyes yellow, heard inhuman growls from both their throats. He was lying between two highly infectious living corpses, one of whom had tried to kill him not even a month ago, and yet he couldn’t rouse the slightest shred of fear.

“Mornin’ already?” Hunk groaned, turning on his side to face Keith, putting his back to the window.

“Yeah.” Keith yawned, stretching as well as he could with Hunk nuzzling up against him. “Sleep well?” he asked, draping his arm back over Hunk’s side. He still felt heavy, slow, sleep lingering in his very bones and pulling him down into the nice soft bed. Waking up a little bit tired was normal, but this type of drowsiness was still pretty new. For some reason, it only happened when he slept next to Hunk. It was weird, but Keith wasn’t going to question it too hard.

“More or less.” Hunk yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. He blinked slowly as he lowered it, then reached out to brush Keith’s hair back over his shoulder with a soft smile. “How about you?”

Keith shrugged. “Good enough.” he almost opened his mouth to say something more, something stupid about how he always slept well next to Hunk, but thankfully a groan from Lance interrupted him before he could do that.

“Tu cabello sabe terrible.” he mumbled. “Deberías cortarlo.”

Hunk pushed at Keith’s hair until it was splayed out on the pillow behind his head. “Better?”

“Sí.” Lance sighed, nuzzling against Keith’s neck as Hunk’s arm draped over his bicep.

“Sleep well?” Hunk asked, the edges of his eyes still crinkled with that soft, stupid smile that made the warm thing in Keith’s chest glow brighter.

“Shhh.” Lance halfway hissed against Keith’s neck, releasing his waist to pat clumsily at Hunk’s face. “Es demasiado temprano para esto.”

Keith chuckled, and got a weak slap to his cheek before Lance cuddled closer to him. “Tu también. Shush.” Lance huffed, his breath disconcertingly cool on Keith’s skin. The deep, tempting tide of sleep was receding now, and Keith sighed and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Lance made a wordless sound of complaint, but Keith just planted a hand on the side of his head and shoved his face into a pillow.

“Lemme go, you octopus.” he grunted, trying to untangle himself from Lance’s long legs. It was harder than it should’ve been, since Lance was actively re-entangling them and the blanket was twisting around both of them.

“Nooo.” Lance whined, sitting up enough to get his arms around Keith’s chest. “Estás cálidoooo.”

“Good point.” Hunk chuckled, and Keith yelped as he was pulled down against Hunk’s chest.

“I need to get up.” Keith protested, but didn’t push hard enough to break free of Hunk’s grip.

“Sun’s barely up.” Hunk grinned, letting Keith settle with an ear to his chest. There was no heartbeat, of course, but he could still hear Hunk breathing. “Bed’s warm, we’re all here. Let’s get a little more rest before we have to start running from zombies.”

“Galra.” Keith huffed, though the correction was rote by this point.

“No zombies.” Lance groaned, tucking his chin over Keith’s shoulder and glaring at him blearily. “Durmamos.”

“Fine.” Keith sighed, letting himself relax back into the comfortable lethargy which had weighed down his limbs when he first woke up. He wrapped both arms around Hunk, and let his eyes slide closed. “But just for a few more minutes, okay?” he fought off a yawn by inhaling deeply through his nose.

“Just a few more minutes.” Hunk agreed, one arm sliding between the small of Keith’s back and Lance’s stomach. Keith could’ve sworn he felt his chest shaking in a silent laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t intend for this chapter to turn into pure fluff, but here we are. This was very soothing to write.


	18. Chapter 18

In the end, they wound up sleeping for at least another hour. Keith couldn’t say he minded that much, though. Hunk made a very comfortable pillow, and Lance, well, he wasn’t _uncomfortable_ to have as a blanket. Keith exhaled and adjusted his bag on his shoulders, watching as Lance loped off ahead to scout for galra between them and the highway. According to Hunk, once they got back on that ribbon of asphalt, it was more or less a straight shot to Evans. If they picked up the pace a little, they might even make it before having to resupply.

“Hey, Hunk?” Keith turned to look at his friend, who was walking with his head down, probably thinking about something. He looked up at his name, though, so Keith continued. “Once we get to Evans, what are you and Lance gonna do for food?”

Hunk looked back at the sidewalk, a frown creasing his face. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I mean, I’m okay with you being a galra, obviously, but your family...” he trailed off, and Hunk shook his head.

“We won’t be able to stay.” he said sadly, and something in Keith’s gut wrenched at his dejected tone of voice.

“Hey.” Keith reached out and grabbed Hunk’s shoulder. “You’re still you. If your family’s cool with you having a boyfriend-”

“Platonic boyfriend.” Hunk said insistently.

“Whatever. If they’re fine with you and Lance sorta-dating, I’m sure they’ll be fine with you being sorta-dead.” he released Hunk’s shoulder, patted it, and let his hand fall back to his side.

“Y’know, when you first grabbed me back in the engineering lecture hall, I thought you were nuts.” Hunk chuckled, balancing his baseball bat on top of his backpack and tucking his hands behind his head. “You went straight into battle mode, like you’d been expecting it. I was scared shitless, but you were calm as hell.”

“Calm?” Keith said skeptically. “I was trying not to fucking die. I was so far from calm.”

“But you didn’t panic.” Hunk said, looking over at Keith without turning his head. “You had a plan in place and a weapon in hand from the second that zombie came in the door.”

“Galra.” Keith corrected automatically.

“Whatever.” Hunk rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, so Keith figured that was a victory.

“Y’know, I think I knew.” Keith said after a moment of comfortable silence. “That you were a galra.” he clarified after Hunk made an inquisitive noise. “When you got pissed because the pigeon brat stole your computer, it was like- like being trapped in a room with a bobcat or something.”

“Really?” Hunk turned his head to look at Keith.

“Yeah.” he nodded. “I think I knew, on some level, but I didn’t want to believe it because you were the first friend I’d had in a long time.”

“Oh.” Hunk looked down at the sidewalk again, grabbing his bat and lowering his arms to hold it in front of himself. “About that.” he swung the bat up and grabbed the hitting end in his left hand, holding it horizontally. “I think, I don’t like you as a friend.”

Keith nearly stumbled, despite the fact that the sidewalk was free of anything worth stumbling over. There were a million different things Hunk could mean by that, but the only one he could think of was that, well, he’d been wrong. That Hunk wasn’t his friend, that he’d fucked up again and alienated the first person who’d ever even pretended to care about him so much, that he was going to be asked to keep moving once they reached Evans because why would anyone want someone like him around their family anyways? It wasn’t like any family had wanted him around before. Not even his own.

“Okay.” he said, his voice coming out flat and low. He should’ve known better than to hope Hunk was actually his friend. Should never have let his guard down around someone who had the power to stab him in the back. Now Hunk didn’t need a map anymore, he didn’t need _him_ anymore. And now that he wasn’t needed, he wasn’t wanted. Story of his life, really. Nobody would willingly hang around a weirdo like him.

“What?” Hunk frowned at him, and Keith’s stomach twisted. That was the look that came before people were called to put him in a different home, that was the look that prefaced his peers asking why he thought he could sit with them at lunch, that was the abject confusion of Keith having done something so blatantly stupid and wrong that he no longer deserved to be around normal people.

“Dude, what’s the face for?” Hunk asked, bat clattering on the ground as he took him by the arm and made him stop. Keith pulled free, an easy feat since Hunk was only holding him loosely, and tucked his arms in close to his body.

“I’ll just go.” he said, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he turned and started towards the alley they’d just passed. How fucking stupid did he have to be, thinking someone like Hunk would want to have someone like him around? He was a nobody, a weirdo, a fag, a violent thug who didn’t deserve to be around good decent people like-

“Keith, wait!” Hunk grabbed him by the upper arm, tight enough to stop him from taking another step. “Listen to me instead of jumping to conclusions, you dumbass.” he huffed in clear exasperation, pulling Keith around to face him. “I don’t like you as a friend.” he repeated, and Keith’s shoulders hunched up around his ears as he ducked his head. He wanted nothing more than to run, to hide, to hole up somewhere until the raging storm of emotions choking him had passed, but Hunk’s grip was like iron and even now he couldn’t bring himself to lay blade to the taller boy.

“I’m pretty sure I like you as more than that.” Hunk said, and Keith’s head whipped up so fast he almost staggered back a step. Hunk chuckled, and eased his grip on Keith’s arm. “I didn’t really realize it until this morning, but, I like you a lot. Like, in a kinda really super-platonic gay kinda way.” he released Keith’s arm and brought his hands together, fiddling with his own fingers. “That’s- that’s what I meant.”

“I thought you were sorta-dating Lance.” he said dumbly after a few seconds of silence.

“I am, it’s just-” Hunk sighed and brought his hands up to his face. “I like both of you the same way. I haven’t mentioned it to Lance cuz, well, I’m not gonna cheat on him, but-”

“That’s dumb.” Keith frowned. His annoying English major roommate had complained about poor communication being used as a source of drama enough times that he knew it was better to nip that shit in the bud. “Just tell him, and if he’s cool with sharing, then so am I.”

“What?” Hunk’s eyes widened almost comically, and he gave a few owlish blinks before Keith realized what he’d just said. The implication that he actually believed Hunk’s words had been genuine, and the far less subtle implication that he felt a similar way.

“Fuck.” he blurted, taking a step back. Distance, he needed a safe distance between them. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Hunk chuckled awkwardly, and turned to pick up his dropped bat. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you and Lance could get along great if you weren’t so prickly.”

“Prickly?” Keith frowned, crossing his arms.

“Prickly.” Hunk nodded, shouldering his bat and turning back around to face Keith. His face split in a grin, and he snorted. “If you were in a ghibli movie you’d be doing that angry hair floof right now.”

“I would not.” Keith huffed.

“You would.” Hunk laughed. “You’d be all poofy and prickly, like a hedgehog.”

“Are we comparing Keith to hedgehogs?” Lance asked, strolling out of the alley not far behind them with a smirk on his face. “Because if we are, he’s totally Shadow.”

The declaration didn’t make sense to Keith, but from the way Hunk covered his mouth to muffle a burst of laughter he’d bet it was a joke.

“Did you scout for galra or not?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes.

“Pricklyyyy~” Hunk sing-songed quietly at his side.

“Yes, I did.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Unless they’re hiding in buildings, we’re clear all the way to the edge of town.”

“I can’t wait to get home.” Hunk sighed, looking up at the cloud-studded sky as they started walking down the road. “Just a few more days.” he grinned, looking back down towards the highway ahead.

“It’d be a hell of a lot faster if I had my car.” Lance sighed, spinning his hockey stick to rest it across his shoulders, elbows hooked over the handle and hands hanging limply.

“When did you ever have a car?” Hunk asked.

“Oh, I found it with keys in the ignition after everything went to shit.” Lance grinned, easy as anything. “Cute lil Ion, basically new, ran like a dream.”

“‘Til you crashed it?” Keith asked, smirking slightly when Lance gave him an absolutely scandalized look.

“No!” he exclaimed, arms moving rapidly so he could slap one to his chest without dropping his hockey stick. “Blue was my _baby_. I’d never do anything to hurt her!”

Keith shared a look with Hunk, then they both snorted.

“Let me guess, the car was blue?” Hunk chuckled.

“Shut up.” Lance huffed, using his free hand to give Hunk a playful shove. “I was still working on a better name when those mechanics fucking jacked it.”

“Oh, oh, I know this one. One of them was a cute girl?” Hunk teased.

“Shut _up_.” Lance gave Hunk another shove. Keith frowned.

“Why would that matter?” he asked. “I mean, I’d get it if you were single but-”

“Hey, just cuz im not gonna hit it doesn’t mean it’s not fine.” Lance cut him off, hooking both arms over his hockey stick again. “And damn, this girl was a piece of work. No clue why she was travelling with that guy. He was just a smooth-talking creep.”

“You’re just calling him that because he stole your car.” Hunk rolled his eyes.

“Not just my car. The stole everything but the clothes on my back!” Lance complained, swinging his hands out palms up. “I’m pretty sure the guy gave me a fake name, too.”

“A fake-” Keith frowned. “Why would he give you a fake name? That just seems unnecessary.”

“Well excuse me for not believing he’s named after a goddamn candy.” Lance huffed.

“Wait, wait.” Hunk’s eyes were wide now, a smile forming on his face. “Did your car have racing stripes?”

“Yeah.” Lance seemed somewhat taken aback by the question, but answered promptly nonetheless. “White ones. Why?”

Hunk beamed, turning to Keith. “Ha! I told you they were liars!” he exclaimed, pointing his bat at Keith’s face.

“What?” Keith’s face scrunched up.

“Rolo and Nyma.” Hunk’s grin turned smug and he crossed his arms as he looked back at Lance. “ _Keith_ wanted to take them up on their offer of shelter for the night, when we crossed paths in Maryland.”

“You met them too?” Lance’s mouth fell open. “Did they still have Blue?”

“Yep.” Hunk nodded. “I thought it was in suspiciously good condition for supposedly being ditched to avoid a horde.”

“Well, at least they’re taking care of her.” Lance sighed wistfully. Keith rolled his eyes.

“But seriously, dude.” Hunk chuckled. “Your judgement of character goes out the window if it’s a pretty girl. Who let you go anywhere on your own?”

Lance laughed, and Keith tilted his head. They’d only been travelling together for a little over a fortnight, but he’d heard Lance laugh plenty in that time. He didn’t laugh like that.

“My judgement of girls isn’t always shit.” Lance grinned. Just like the time he talked about eating people, it didn’t reach his eyes. Keith looked back towards the highway, and ran his fingers over the hilt of his knife. Whatever Lance didn’t want to talk about, it couldn’t possibly be that much of a threat. Two of them were already dead, after all.

“Hey, Keith.” Hunk said, dragging his attention back to the lighthearted argument he’d mostly tuned out. “Back me up here. Lance is terrible at flirting, right?”

“Wouldn’t know.” Keith shrugged. “Never heard him try.”

“Wha- yes you have!” Lance exclaimed. “I flirted with you that day you found out I was a zombie-

“Galra.”

“And I was flirting with Hunk over breakfast!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “That was supposed to be flirting?”

Hunk snorted. Lance made a sound like a chicken being strangled. Keith chuckled, and traced the hilt of his knife again before lacing his fingers behind his neck. They’d have to go back on high alert once they got on the highway, but until then... this was nice.


	19. Chapter 19

Hunk was grinning. That wasn’t really news, he’d been grinning since they passed the “welcome to Evans” sign, but it seemed to have brightened as they turned down an unlabelled street. Lance had fallen silent, and the only sounds were faint little things. Their footsteps on the cracked asphalt road. The wind rustling through the crops all around them. Distant birdsong. Keith was pretty sure he could even hear the faint sounds of livestock on the breeze. After so long walking down highways littered with abandoned cars and creeping through dead cities and towns, it was surreal as hell. It was almost like the apocalypse hadn’t touched this tiny backwater town at all.

“Holy shit.” Hunk laughed, soft and breathy. “Guys, that’s my house!” he pointed at a white and blue building with a shining roof. “We’re almost there!” he laughed again, louder this time, and started jogging down the road.

Keith glanced at Lance, and found the taller boy grinning fondly. “Think we should let him get there first?” Lance asked, the edges of his eyes crinkling up.

“Yeah.” Keith nodded, reflexively checking his weapons as Lance shifted his hockey stick to one shoulder.

“C’mon, guys!” Hunk called back, waving one arm wildly. “My mom’s gonna want to meet you!”

“Coming!” Keith replied. Lance chuckled.

“Race ya!” he said brightly, breaking into a sprint.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Keith yelled as he took off after him.

“Hunk cheated first!” Lance called back, smiling wide.

“I did not!” Hunk exclaimed, but he sped up anyways.

Despite starting in the back, Keith’s foot hit the gravel driveway of the two-story white and blue house first. He skidded on the loose substrate, and reflex only barely saved him from having little rocks embedded in his face. Didn’t stop the impact from hurting, though, and he pushed himself up with a groan as Lance skidded to a stop in front of him.

“How- the hell- did you- do that?” he panted, doubling over with his hands on his knees.

Keith just groaned and turned, flopping down on his back. His heart was racing in his chest, pulse pounding in his ears, but there was no adrenaline. No fear. Nothing but a dull ache where he’d hit the ground and a bright spark of pride in his chest. He could outrun a galra. If it was a real horde, with adrenaline in the mix, he could probably outstrip them by enough to get himself to shelter. Of course, that was assuming he was alone in being chased. If Hunk or Lance was with him, well... he wouldn’t be able to leave either of them behind.

“I- hate-both of you.” Hunk wheezed as he jogged up.

“You’re just mad I won.” Keith chuckled from the ground.

“I didn’t do anything!” Lance protested.

“You started the race.” Hunk said as Keith pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“He’s got a point, y’know.” he said, and Lance gaped at him.

“Whatever.” Hunk waved a hand, still breathing a little heavily but smiling again. “It’s about lunchtime. Everyone should be inside.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Lance grinned. “On your feet, Mullet. This guy’s been talking about introducing me to his family since first semester midterms.”

“You are so obsessed with my mullet.” Keith sighed, pushing himself to his feet. Hunk dusted him off a bit, and they started up the driveway. As they approached, a smell made Keith’s stomach growl. It was food. He couldn’t tell what, but it was definitely fresh.

“Mom!” Hunk called, jogging ahead of them. “Dad! Kalie, Max, Tria!”

There was a brief moment of no reaction, then the front door of the house flew open and the screen door slammed into the wall. “Hunk!” a girl screamed, and then the house erupted in yelling. Hunk charged up the porch steps, and caught the girl up in a tight hug.

“Tria!” he laughed, and she squealed as she hugged him back.

“Hunk!” another girl cried, this one much taller than the first and with a pair of wooden-looking triangles hanging from large gauges in her ears. She was about Hunk’s height, actually, and of a similar build, but even with the large pale splotches on her skin making the bags under her eyes more evident she definitely didn’t look old enough to be his mom. Keith didn’t catch her name, it was lost in the flood of people calling their joy and relief at seeing Hunk again, but from what Hunk had told him that was his cousin Shay. That meant the equally blotchy boy with tattoos all over both forearms who was currently mussing his friend’s hair was probably Rax. He stopped a few feet from the bottom of the stairs, and Lance turned around with one foot on the second step.

“What, bailing out now?” he asked, a small frown pulling at his mouth.

“Not good with crowds.” he shrugged.

“Alright.” Lance shrugged back, and turned to skip up the rest of the steps. A woman who was probably Hunk’s mother pinched his cheek, no doubt exclaiming about how thin he was. He laughed, pulled her hand away gently, and she nodded to something he’d said.

“Alright!” she said loudly. “Girls, back in the dining room. Rax, grab some more chairs. Eugene, get three more place settings.”

There was some grumbling, especially from the little girl who had attached herself to Hunk’s chest, but everyone quickly filed back into the building. This close, with the windows and doors open, Keith could still hear the indistinct sounds of conversation. It sounded happy. Though, really, of course it did. Part of their family had just come back home.

“Keith, right?” the woman who’d pinched Lance’s cheek earlier asked. He nodded. “Don’t loiter in the drive. It’s rude. Come up here, let me see you properly.”

Keith walked up to the porch, and winced when she pinched his cheek as well.

“As I though. All skin and bones, you two!” she grinned, and patted Keith’s cheek. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty to eat. Fresh bread, butter, macaroni, why Hunk’s uncle even found a book on cheese-making at the library. It’s no Kraft, but-”

“Mom.” Hunk chuckled, grabbing her wrist. “You’re just making us hungrier. Can we go have lunch now?”

“Oh, of course.” Hunk’s mom laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.” she sighed, pressing her forehead to his for a few long seconds before pulling away and turning to Keith. “And you, Keith.”

Keith straightened up, and she smiled. It was disarmingly similar to the smile Hunk got when he was looking at Lance. “Come here, deary.” she held out her arms, and Keith glanced at Hunk. Next to him, Lance scoffed and put a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Quit being rude, imbécil.” he said, giving Keith a shove. Keith stumbled forwards, and Hunk’s mom wrapped him up in a warm hug. It didn’t last long, but when she released him she tugged on his hair.

“I’m sure my sister can do something with this, once you’ve washed and brushed it.” she said cheerily. “Now, Lance.” she turned to Lance, and Keith stepped over to stand next to Hunk by the open door. Lance stepped in for a hug the second she opened her arms, and seemed to practically melt into the contact. He ducked his head against her shoulder, and Keith couldn’t hear the words but it definitely sounded like Hunk’s mom was telling Lance something. She kissed the top of his head before releasing him, and Keith could’ve sworn he saw a shine on Lance’s cheek before he wiped his face on his jacket sleeve.

Hunk’s mom turned around, and Keith automatically straightened up at the stern look on her face. “What are you two still doing out here?” she scolded, wagging a finger at them. “I said go inside, not stand here waiting for me.” she huffed and crossed her arms. “You boys go ahead. I’m going to check the road.”

“Yes Mom.” Hunk said obediently.  
“Yes Ma’am.” Keith said at the same time with a quick nod.

“Of course, Mrs. Garrett.” Lance grinned, turning to pick up his hockey stick and Hunk’s baseball bat from the floorboards. She nodded once, a smile on her face that Keith recognized as satisfaction, and reached up to grab a double barreled shotgun Keith hadn’t noticed hanging over the porch steps.

“And leave those weapons by the door.” she called over her shoulder as she started down the driveway. “I don’t want you getting blood and dirt all over my house.”

“Yes, Mom.” Hunk called back with a laugh. “C’mon.” he smiled, taking his bat back from Lance when offered it to him. “My mom makes the _best_ mac’n’cheese.”


	20. Chapter 20

“I’m afraid the guest bedroom is taken.” Hunk’s mom said apologetically as they helped her clear the lunch dishes. Hunk had been bundled off to clean up and put on fresh clothes, since he had those here, and Lance was left in the kitchen with Keith and Mrs. Garrett. “But I’m sure Hunk wouldn’t mind putting you up in his room.” she grinned, and Lance gave her his best smile in return.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” he said, stepping back so she could bustle out of the kitchen. He followed her, Keith half a step behind, and grabbed his backpack from where it rested by the door.

“It’s just up here.” Mrs. Garrett said, leading them up the stairs and down the hall a bit to a plain wooden door. Hanging at eye level was a piece of drafting paper with the word Hunk on it in his boyfriend’s familiar blocky handwriting. “And if you the three of you put your clothes in the hamper, we can wash them later.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Garrett.” Lance said, giving her his widest smile. “It’s no wonder Hunk’s such a sweetheart, if you raised him.”

“Oh, you flatterer.” she giggled. “Make yourselves at home, you two. Hunk should be out any minute now.”

Lance shut the door once she’d walked away, and dropped his bag on the floor. So, this was Hunk’s room. There was a telescope set up just next to the eastern window, and a desk pressed against the southern one. A pair of corkboards took of the wall between the two windows, covered in a mess of papers which Lance had no doubt were largely related to engineering. Above the bed, which was spread a deep blue quilt with paler blue polka dots on it, a large poster hung. It was an intricately detailed cut-away of the layers of a specific submarine. Lance didn’t recognize the name, but he would’ve bet his right eye Hunk could tell him every last thing about the ship.

“Nice room.” Keith remarked, sitting down on the foot of the bed. His heels came about even with the bottom of the box frame. It was kinda adorable. “I kinda expected more books on the bookcase, though.” he inclined his head towards the dark wood bookcase that stood in one corner of the room. One shelf was dedicated to models of submarines, and the rest were filled with a mix of books, driftwood, framed photographs, and little mechanical looking things Hunk had probably built himself.

“You shoulda seen the one in our dorm room.” Lance chuckled, walking over and picking up a paperback book. Its spine was worn white, the edges of its pages and cover soft to the touch from repeated thumbings. He set it back against the rest of the series.

“What, he filled the shelves?”

“Yeah. All two of ‘em.” Lance grinned, recalling Hunk’s face when he realized all his books weren’t going to fit in the provided space. He crossed back to his bag and started pulling his clothes out, lobbing them into the collapsible hamper next to the dresser. “Can you believe his family made that mac’n’cheese, like, entirely from scratch?”

“No.” Keith chuckled, a sound which had been growing more common since they all started huddling up at night but still made Lance grin to hear. “It was the best food I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been living on protein bars and trail mix.” Lance rolled his eyes. “Also, you’ve never tasted Hunk’s cooking. Did he ever tell you he won MasterChef Junior when he was a kid?”

“No.” Keith said, audibly shocked. “Did he really?”

“Yep.” Lance nodded. “I think he was ten? There’s a trophy in the living room somewhere.”

“Wow.” there was a flump from the bed, and when Lance glanced over he saw Keith had laid out across the foot of the mattress with his legs still hanging off the edge. “He never mentioned it.”

“Hunk’s a humble guy.” Lance shrugged, peeling off his hoodie and dropping that in the hamper as he walked by. He didn’t really have anything clean to wear after he got cleaned up, but maybe he could wear one of Hunk’s shirts like a tunic or something? He flopped down on the bed next to Keith, and looked up at the ceiling. It was strange, being around so many people again. He could hear Hunk’s mom and one of the farmhands singing as they did the dishes. The triplets arguing outside as they did some kind of chore. Chickens, livestock, songbirds, the wind humming against the window screens. If he shut his eyes, he could almost imagine the sound of waves on the shore by his uncle’s place.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, drifting through memories of school breaks and long summer weekends spent at the shore with his family, but eventually the creak of a door pulled him back to reality, something not even Keith snoring in his ear had managed to do. He disentangled himself from his clingy heater and sat up, grinning at the sight of Hunk shutting the door behind himself. His hair was wet, bangs clinging to the sides of his face, and his skin still looked slightly damp. And damn, was there plenty of skin for Lance to look at. Hunk had a towel wrapped around his hips, and nothing else.

“You clean up nice.” he grinned, and Hunk rolled his eyes.

“You know you’re using that line wrong, right?”

“It’s still true.” Lance shrugged, remaining leaned back on his hands as he watched Hunk pick out fresh, clean clothes from his dresser. “I can borrow a shirt or somethin’, right?”

“Hmm?” Hunk looked over his shoulder.

“For after I wash up. Which, you’re gonna have to show me where that’s goin’ on.” he stretched, and took another look at Keith’s grimy face. “I swear, it’s a miracle his face isn’t a mess of zits.”

“Yours isn’t either.” Hunk pointed out, hip checking his drawer shut and tossing a long button-down at Lance.

“Yeah, but you and I are immune to shit like that now. Remember?” he grinned as he caught the shirt.

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Right. You can take that and go shower now, if you want. Bathroom door’s open, you can’t miss it.”

Lance sat up ramrod straight, drawing a sleepy grumble of protest from Keith. “Did you just say shower?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Um, yeah?” Hunk frowned. 

“Oh my god, it’s been _forever_ since I had a hot shower.” Lance grinned, hopping off the bed. “There is hot water, right?”

“Yep.” Hunk nodded. “Perks of being off the grid. Doesn’t really affect us out here when things go down.”

“Guess Keith had the right idea, looking for a place like this.” Lance mused, leaning over Keith to brush his bangs out of his face. The human boy was kinda cute, once you got past the mullet and grime and abysmal fashion sense. Seriously, a tank top would give him just as much protection and range of motion as his stupid T-shirts, and show off that nice lean musculature he had so much better!

“Um, after your shower...” Hunk hesitated, and Lance looked up from Keith to see his boyfriend shifting from foot to foot. “There’s something we should talk about. Nothing bad, just, I don’t wanna put it off any longer.”

Lance nodded slowly, mind kicking into high gear. What could Hunk want to talk about that he’d been putting off, but wasn’t bad? Was it something he’d been keeping to himself to stop Lance from worrying? Because as sweet as it was to call that sort of thing not bad for not affecting them both, he-

“Hey, Lance.” Hunk’s hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing under his eyes gently. “It’s not bad, I promise. It’s a feelings thing.”

“Oh.” Lance relaxed a little, tension leaving his shoulders that he hadn’t even realized had gathered there. “Alright.” he leaned against one of Hunk’s hands, closing his eyes for a second and just focusing on the feel of his contact. He was still a little warm from his shower, and that radiant heat sank into Lance like the body heat from Keith which still lingered in his core.

“Go take a shower.” Hunk smiled, practically glowing. “I’ll wake up Keith so he’s ready to take his turn when you’re done.”

“I don’t have to worry about using up all the hot water, do I?” Lance asked as he opened the door, looking over his shoulder at Hunk.

“Nah.” his boyfriend shook his head. “Take as long as you want.”

Lance grinned, and stepped out into the hallway. A long, hot shower sounded like exactly the kind of thing he needed. Hell, maybe it’d even make him feel a little bit human again.


	21. Chapter 21

Lance flopped down on the bed with a sigh as Keith left to shower. After washing his hair, he’d stood under the spray of water until its warmth permeated his entire body and the drumming of the spray on porcelain had lulled him half to sleep. Being room temperature wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something nice about being warm, and the too-big button down and drawstring pajama pants Hunk had loaned him were definitely helping him retain that warmth.

“So, you wanted to talk about something?” he said after a few moments of relative silence.

“It’s, well, it’s about Keith.” Hunk said after a few long seconds of silence. Of course it was Keith, he thought resentfully, anger flashing through him like lightning before he shook it away. “A couple days ago, I realized I like him as more than a friend. I like him the same way I like you.”

Okay, no, nevermind, he was angry, but it wasn’t the kind of anger he could _do_ anything about. Keith was pretty, and strong, and his living warmth was something dangerously close to addicting. How was Lance supposed to compete with that? His face was too long and pointy to be called anything close to beautiful. His arms and legs were skinny twiggy things, only strong when he was blacked out and defending himself on pure zombie instinct. And, well, he was dead. Room temperature. No good for hugging or cuddling with anymore, not that his lanky build had ever been well suited for it to begin with.

Lance turned his head away from Hunk, staring at the head of the bed. He could feel his throat getting tight, his chest aching as he tried to keep breathing normally. His eyes prickled, and he squeezed them shut against tears. He wasn’t Hunk’s boyfriend anyways, it was purely platonic. This wasn’t even a breakup, just Hunk choosing to have a different best friend. He had nothing to cry about. Nothing at all.

“Lance?” Hunk’s cool hand rested lightly on his elbow. “Buddy, c’mon. Talk with me.” he tugged gently, but Lance refused to look. If he was going to cry for no reason, he damn well wasn’t going to let anyone see it. “I know we haven’t been together that long, but I didn’t want to keep it a secret.”

Lance swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, trying to will it away. Breathing evenly was getting harder with every second, and Hunk’s gentle touch on his arm wasn’t making it any easier.

“I told Keith, when I realized.” Hunk said softly, and the confession nearly drove the air from Lance’s lungs. “I thought he could help me figure out how to tell you-” Hunk’s hand trailed down Lance’s arm, but when his fingers crept around Lance’s palm he snapped. Lance sat up abruptly, yanking his hand out of Hunk’s grip and turning away from him.

“How to tell me you’re breaking up with me?” Lance meant the words to be sharp, cutting, but they didn’t come out that way. His voice was choked, strained, audibly on the verge of tears. Fuck, why was it so hard to keep his shit together? “Sorry, you’d probably say you’re _moving on_.” he spat, at least managing to sound a little bit angry this time. “Because we were never really dating, were we? Just friends, fuckbuddies, nothing special at all.” his hands curled into fists, and he almost wished they were somewhere with zombies around. Then he could at least throw himself into a horde, take his feelings out on dead flesh and let his undead side keep him in one piece. Or not in one piece. He was already dead. Without Hunk, what reason did he have to keep pretending to be human?

“What?” Hunk recoiled, Lance could see his shadow move on the floor. “That’s not what I was saying at all!” he reached out and grabbed Lance by one baggy sleeve. “You’re the best boyfriend I could ask for. I told Keith how I felt so he can call me out if I start getting too close with him. I don’t want to break up with you.” he moved his hand down to grip Lance’s and this time Lance let him. “I told you because I don’t like keeping secrets, especially from you.”

“Seemed fine not telling me you were a zombie.” Lance said drily.

“That was different.” Hunk sighed, twining their fingers together. “I thought you were still alive, so I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t freak out and try to kill me when I told you.”

“Wait, you thought I would kill you?” Lance turned to look at Hunk, and found him looking down and aside. “I would _never_.” he said with as much conviction as he could fit into three little words, despite how heavy they felt on his tongue. Hunk was his best friend, his boyfriend, and Lance couldn’t fathom a life without him in it. He’d hadn’t been able to fathom a life without _them_ either, and look how that had turned out.

“And I’d never break up with you.” Hunk smiled, taking Lance’s other hand and shaking his thoughts back to the present. “Even if I’ve got a kinda-crush on Keith, even if he feels the same way back, I’m still going to pick you.”

“Guess we’re both idiots, huh.” he chuckled, returning Hunk’s gentle grip.

“Yeah.” Hunk smiled, scooting closer and leaning in until their foreheads touched. “Still really like you, though.”

“You can say love, y’know.” Lance grinned. “I know you mean it platonically.”

“Well then, I love you.” Hunk whispered, his smile soft and warm and everything Lance had nearly forgotten he needed. “And I’ll keep loving you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Lance smiled back, and pressed a chaste kiss to the edge of Hunk’s lips. “Well, I think we’re kinda immortal now, so that might just be forever.”

“I’m okay with that.” Hunk murmured, pulling gently on Lance’s hands. Lance leaned forward, and relaxed against Hunk’s shoulder. “Sorry I made you worry.”

“Sorry I overreacted.” Lance smiled, shuffling closer to Hunk until he was practically in his boyfriend’s lap. It had been far too long since he got a proper hug. Sure, they’d hugged when they met up in the grocery store, but that was more of a ‘holy fuck you’re alive’ hug than anything else. This? This was a good hug. Hunk wasn’t warm like he had been before the Project G.A.L.R.A. virus got loose and everything went to shit, but in every other way he was still perfect for hugs.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he mumbled into Hunk’s shoulder.

“Me neither, buddy.” Hunk sighed, holding him close. “Me neither.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Alright, this is a problem.” Keith frowned, sitting back against the headboard and crossing his arms. The past three days had been a special kind of surreal, with Hunk falling easily into the chore routine and Keith and Lance being dragged along by the ear to learn all the different things that needed doing on a big farm like this. The massive portions Hunk’s mom had given them on that first day made a lot more sense after four or five hours of hard manual labour. And while that was all well and good for Keith, it had thrown Lance’s calculations off like crazy. They should’ve been able to stay for almost a week before needing to move on, but the way things were looking now...

“You’re telling me.” Lance groaned from where he was sprawled across the foot of the bed, lifting one hand so Keith could see his palm. “I’m going to get blisters if I have to keep doing this kinda crap!”

“Please.” Hunk rolled his eyes. “I’ve been hauling shit around in the barn since I was six, and the worst I ever got was a splinter.”

“You also wouldn’t know lotion from moisturizer if they both bit you in the ass.” Lance huffed, kicking at the side of Hunk’s head without any real force.

“You guys do realize that’s not what I’m talking about, right?” Keith asked drily.

“Of course we do.” Lance sighed, giving up on kicking Hunk’s head and letting his boyfriend lie on his shins instead. “I swear, my eyes nearly went yellow during dinner tonight.”

“Just checking.” Keith smirked. “Never know with you.”

“Was that an insult?” Lance frowned, pushing himself up to mostly sitting. “Hunk, I feel insulted. Can you kick him for me, babe?”

“Mmm, no.” Hunk grinned, just a quick little flash of teeth before he sighed and looked up at the ceiling again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, the way I see it, all our courses of action from here boil down to three options.” Keith settled his shoulders against the headboard more comfortably, and lowered one of his hands to rest on his shins where they crossed. The other, he lifted with one finger up. “Option one, we tell Hunk’s family and hope they don’t freak out.”

“No.” Hunk shook his head. “Bad plan, very bad plan.”

“I never said it was a good option.” Keith rolled his eyes, and lifted a second finger. “Option two, we don’t tell anyone, and find someone for you two to eat.”

Hunk shook his head again. “Town like this, somebody goes missing they’re gonna be missed. Especially now that nobody’s leaving.”

“Man, you’re really bad at coming up with plans.” Lance said, lying back down and folding his arms under his head.

“Option three.” Keith said, raising a third finger and pointedly ignoring Lance’s jab. “We come up with a reason for Lance to leave and come back, so he can go hunting out of town.”

Lance shook his head. “Doesn’t solve the immediate problem.” he said flatly. “It’d take me at least two days, maybe three, just to get to the next town and back. And that’s assuming there’s viable targets in the next town, which there probably aren’t because we’re in the middle of carajo en ninguna parte.” he lifted his head and threw his hands over the edge of the bed. “I don’t know how you handled growing up here, Hunk. I’d go nuts.”

“That’s because you’re a city boy.” Hunk teased, turning his head to smile at Lance. It was his affectionate smile, the one that made Keith’s chest feel all weird.

“Well, if this city boy doesn’t eat soon, he’s gonna hurt someone.” Lance huffed, not even looking at Hunk. “I mean, you and Keith might be able to restrain me, but I don’t want to make you do that. And Hunk, you may have better control than me, but surrounded by this many humans you’re going to slip eventually. And if we both black out at the same time, Keith won’t be able to stop us.”

Keith leaned his head back against the headboard and look at the ceiling. “So what do we do?”

“We leave.”

“What?” Hunk gasped. “Lance, we just got here.”

“We leave, or sooner or later you and I will slip.” Lance said, sitting up with the most serious expression Keith had ever seen on his face. “We’ll black out, we’ll hurt people, we’ll _kill_ people. I’m not doing that.” Lance opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked away. “We need to leave soon. I’m not going to risk blacking out in a house full of humans.”

“How long do we have?” Hunk asked, sitting up and turning towards Keith and Lance.

“A few days.” Lance sighed, running a hand over his face. “But the longer we stay, the bigger the risk is.”

“What if you were able to eat something?” Keith asked, an idea already half-formed in his head. It was reckless, and stupid, but it just might be what they needed to all get out of this in one piece. “Not a full serving, but just, something.”

“No.” Hunk shook his head. “I may not like everyone in Evans, but we’re not going to hurt any of them.”

“I don’t mean one of the locals.” Keith met Hunk’s eyes, then Lance’s. “I’ve got plenty of muscle, I’m perfectly healthy, and I can take pain.”

Hunk shook his head quickly. “No! I could never do that, man. You’re my friend.”

“One mouthful isn’t much, but I could probably go another week with it.” Lance said, his blue eyes raking up and down Keith’s body like he was plotting out what parts of him would be the most delicious. “Hunk, maybe two.”

“I’m _not_ eating Keith.” Hunk said firmly, glaring at Lance.

“Well if Lance needs to eat, then I’m offering.” Keith said, sitting up as straight as he could. “It’ll give us enough time to come up with a reason to leave, and you can say your goodbyes.”

“I can’t believe the best plan we’ve got involves actual consensual vore.” Lance said drily. Hunk made a choking sound, and Keith cocked his head to the side.

“What’s vore?”


	23. Chapter 23

Keith shivered as he sat down in the tub, the porcelain cool against his skin. Every single instinct he had was screaming at him to run, to put distance between himself and the pair of predators hovering over him, but he couldn’t. Lance had nearly started transforming at the dinner table, and Keith had had to call it a sudden onset migraine to get him upstairs without anyone else trying to follow. They were out of time. If Lance didn’t feed tonight, there was no telling when he might snap.

“You sure you don’t wanna be unconscious for this?” Hunk asked softly, laying out supplies on the edge of the sink. Bandages, bottles with the labels at too oblique of an angle for Keith to read, a roll of medical tape. Lance was behind him, kneeling on the tile floor and wiping Keith’s right bicep down with something that smelled vaguely medicinal.

“I’m sure.” Keith nodded, the fingers of his left hand curling in the shirt he’d taken off and twisted into a dense knot of fabric. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”

“I still don’t like this, but I’m not leaving you two alone.” Hunk said firmly, sitting down on the edge of the tub.

“Alright.” Lance said softly, lifting the rag from Keith’s skin. “That’s as clean as you’re getting. You ready?”

Keith wedged the compacted fabric into his mouth, and nodded. It would serve as both a gag to muffle any sounds he made, and a measure to make sure he didn’t bite off his tongue or anything. He braced his feet against the opposite side of the tub, and tried to keep his right arm relaxed. Lance’s hands, cool and firm, gripped him at the shoulder and elbow. Keith inhaled deeply through his nose, and was almost done emptying his lungs on an exhale when Lance bit down.

It hurt. It hurt a lot more than he’d expected. Lance’s teeth didn’t cut through his skin like a knife, but instead bore down with blunt force. Keith took quick, shallow breaths through his nose, gritting his teeth in the fabric gag. He’d lived through worse. Hunk grabbed his other arm and lifted it, clasping his hand, giving him something to cling to. Lance’s teeth finally broke the skin, and Keith nearly screamed. It hurt. It _hurt_. He’d broken bones, cut and stabbed himself bad enough to need stitches on at least three occasions, been beaten bloody more times than was probably advisable. None of it compared to the feeling of having a chunk of his flesh ripped out.

Lance made a low, quiet sound that wasn’t entirely human, and Keith tried to breathe deeper through his nose. Blood was running over his arm now, so much blood, he could barely hear it striking the tub over the sound of his heartbeat and harsh breaths in his ears, but he could feel it painting his forearm and hand with streaks of bright crimson red.

Lance’s second bite almost hurt more. It was faster, teeth breaking his skin almost immediately, but when Lance pulled his head away he tore out more than just a mouthful of skin and flesh and blood. Keith squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and struggled to take deep breaths. Lance made a louder inhuman sound, this one something like a growl, and Keith looked over his shoulder. Lance’s lips and chin and bared teeth were bloody red, his wide eyes so yellowed his irises had gone green, the skin around them bruised purple.

“Lance, calm down.” Hunk hissed, one hand pressed into Lance’s chest, holding him back. Holding Lance away from him, Keith realized belatedly. Lance, whose pupils were pinpricks in his sickly green eyes. Whose hands were clamped like vices on Keith’s arm. Whose breaths were making an inhuman noise as they escaped his throat.

“Lance.” Hunk hissed again as Lance tried to lunge forwards. “Stop it. You’re going to hurt him if you eat any more.”

As if he wasn’t already hurt? Keith pulled his hand free of Hunk’s and tried to peel Lance’s fingers off of his elbow. They were slick with blood, the red stark against his pallid skin and Lance’s dark bruises, and Keith couldn’t pry them free. Lance abruptly released him, and Keith was glad Hunk had made him take off his jeans before getting in the tub because he tipped sideways the second he was released. Everything hurt, and the world swam in front of his eyes as Hunk and Lance scuffled quietly. Every galra sound out of Lance’s mouth made him twitch, some deep, ancient part of his brain screaming for him to get away, and when the room went silent Keith’s already racing heart kicked into high gear.

“Keith?” Hunk said softly, his hand wrapping around Keith’s shoulder. “Oh, man, please tell me you’re awake.”

Keith groaned as he was pulled upright, and let himself flop back against Hunk almost bonelessly. “Hurts.” he groaned, when the gag was removed from his mouth, and Hunk let out a heavy sigh.

“Okay. Hurt is good right now.” Hunk said, pulling Keith to his feet. His head spun, and his knees nearly gave out under him. He staggered sideways, lifting a hand to brace himself against the wall.

“I got you, Keith.” Lance said softly, stepping up behind him. A dry hand landed on his left shoulder, and a wet, slightly sticky one pressed up under his right arm. “I got you.” Keith slumped against Lance’s chest with a weak groan, lightheadedness getting the better of him as the shower curtain slid shut.

“I’m gonna run the water cold.” Hunk said, and Keith jolted slightly as the spray struck his shins. That was weird, why was the water on his shins? Lance supported him as the cold water moved up his body, accompanied at times by Hunk’s large, careful hands rubbing at his skin. Washing off the blood, he realized as Lance lifted his arm free of the spray. He drifted in and out of consciousness after the water shut off, and after what felt like ages but also no time at all he blinked blearily and found himself in Hunk’s bed.

He was on his side, his uninjured arm curled loosely under him, hand wrapped in one of Hunk’s. His face was buried in Hunk’s chest, his injured arm and accompanying leg thrown over his friend’s body. Hunk’s free arm rested over his hips, and one leg rested between Keith’s, which would’ve been awkward if his right heel wasn’t tucked against the back of Hunk’s other knee. Lance was pressed up against his back, both arms around Keith’s chest, one leg lying next to Keith’s over Hunk and the other hooked around his more horizontal calf and ankle from below.

The gentle pressure of their skin on his was warm. Not in the way of a human touch, but in the way a thick blanket became warm from being wrapped around your shoulders. Lance nuzzled against the back of his neck with a sleepy mumble of unintelligible Spanish, and Keith squirmed slightly to get his head pillowed on Hunk’s arm. As usual, his friends were holding hands under him, but this time their arms were on top of the pillows. Resting his cheek against Hunk’s smooth skin, Keith let his eyes slide back shut. An aching, burning sensation pulsed in his arm with each heartbeat, but it was dull, distant. Keith sighed, and slipped back into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunk and Lance absolutely do not know what they’re doing. This is not how you treat someone who’s going into hemorrhagic shock. They should’ve just left him lying in the tub, rinsed him off like that, then bandaged him up _before_ trying to make him stand.


	24. Chapter 24

Keith groaned when he was jolted into consciousness, pulling his aching arm closer to his body. He was mostly lying on his face, left arm bent awkwardly under him, a comfortable weight resting on his back and across one of his legs. “Ge’off” he grumbled, swatting ineffectively at Lance’s arm where it was tucked under his chest. Lance just groaned and snuggled closer, and Keith realized both of them were mostly naked. Lance had pajama pants on, but he was only wearing boxers.

“Off me.” he grunted, planting his left hand on the mattress and pushing himself up, which was much harder than usual when he had at least half of Lance’s body weight resting on him.

“No.” Lance huffed into his hair, arms tightening around his chest. “Cáliidooo.”

“Let go you fucking octopus.” Keith snapped, pulling at Lance’s arms ineffectively. He lifted his right arm, and hissed in pain. Right, bite marks. He wouldn’t be using this arm much for a while. He could probably pass it off as a fractured bone, if he figured out a reason for it to be broken. The door creaked open, and he let his left arm fold under him, hitting the mattress and doing his best to appear deeply asleep. He needed more time to come up with a cover story, a reason for his arm to be out of commission, something that would require bandages but wasn’t the truth.

“Hey.” Hunk said softly, and Keith’s heart slowed from its frantic pace as familiar footsteps circled around the bed. Hunk sat down on the edge of the mattress, and brushed Keith’s bangs out of his face. “I told my family that you and Lance aren’t feeling too hot today, so they won’t be expecting you to leave the room.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Keith grinned, leaning into Hunk’s cool, gentle touch as his hand stilled on Keith’s cheek.

“It’s nothing. I brought breakfast.” Hunk gestured to two plates resting on the sheets next to him. Keith gestured to the lanky galra draped over his torso and tangled with his legs. Hunk chuckled, and ran a hand through Lance’s hair. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” he said, his voice still soft but his tone teasing. “You gotta let Keith go so he can eat.”

“Cálido.” Lance huffed, wrapping himself tighter around Keith’s torso.

“I know, but he’s gotta eat.” Hunk said, peeling one of Lance’s arms away from Keith’s chest. It took a minute, and Hunk climbing over Keith at one point, but eventually Lance was disentangled and Keith was able to sit up on the edge of the bed. He shivered, and sat back against the headboard with one of the plates balanced on his crossed shins as Lance made himself comfortable in Hunk’s lap.

“I swear, he’s getting clingier” Keith huffed, stuffing a chunk of scrambled egg in his mouth.

“I think it’s because of last night.” Hunk shrugged. “He was always super clingy after parties, and eating after being hungry for a long time is, well...” he trailed off, and Keith nodded before stuffing as much of a pancake in his mouth as would fit. That made a bit of sense. Also probably explained why Lance was completely dead to the world still, despite having been literally prised off of Keith like a barnacle.

“Well, at least he doesn’t mind clinging to you.” Keith inclined his head at the way Lance had wound himself around Hunk’s legs, head pillowed in Hunk’s lap.

“At least.” Hunk sighed, stroking Lance’s hair with a soft smile. It faded quickly, though, and Keith stuffed another pancake in his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid and impulsive. “Any ideas what to tell them for why we’re leaving?”

Keith shook his head, swallowing his mouthful of food before attempting to speak. “I’ve got nothing.”

“Well, you and Lance have all day to brainstorm. Just, try not to kill each other?”

“I make no promises.” Keith flipped his hands out to the sides in something resembling a shrug, then went back to eating his breakfast. He’d behave himself if Lance did, but if Lance started shit he would finish it.

\---

Keith checked over his bag again, counting the clothes and supplies and making sure everything was in place. His right arm hadn’t stopped hurting yet, and was still hard to move, but he’d gotten better at tuning out that dull agony radiating from the space between his shoulder and elbow. Hunk sighed and sat back, zipping up his own bag. “I can’t believe we’re really leaving.” he said softly.

“We can always come back, y’know.” Lance said, placing a hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “Swing by for your birthday or something.”

Hunk shook his head, hands curling into fists against his knees. Lance pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before standing and slinging his own bag over his shoulder. “Well, we can talk about that later. Now, your mom is probably waiting to say goodbye.”

Hunk sighed heavily, and swung his backpack onto his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Keith brought up the rear as they headed down to the front door, watching Hunk carefully. Just before they reached the part of the upstairs hallways visible from the living room, he straightened up and squared his shoulders. When he turned to head down the stairs, Keith saw that he’d pasted on a smile. One of the farmhands was showing Hunk’s sister Tria how to hand-fill shotgun shells at the kitchen table, and she set down her work in progress to run over and throw her wiry little arms around Hunk’s waist.

“Do you really have to go?” she asked, head tilted back and dark eyes wide.

“‘Fraid so.” Hunk’s smile wavered, turning sad as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind his sister’s ear. “Someone’s gotta keep these idiots alive.” he pointed a thumb in Keith’s general direction, and Lance made an offended sound.

“Excuse you. I did just fine on my own.”

“Sure.” Keith rolled his eyes. “That’s why we found you camped out in a grocery store living on h-” his eyes flicked to Hunk’s sister, who had released him but not returned to the kitchen yet. “Hecking bad food.”

“Hecking bad?” Hunk said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh shut up.” Keith huffed. “Are we going or not?”

“Going, going.” Hunk sighed, giving his sister’s hair one last ruffle. His mom was waiting on the porch, and held out her arms as soon as Hunk stepped out the door. Keith rolled his eyes. What was it with these people and hugs?

“Are you sure you have to go?” Hunk’s mom asked when she pulled away, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” Hunk nodded once. “I can’t just let Keith and Lance go out on their own. They’d kill each other before zombies got the chance.” he grinned, reassuring and sunshine warm.

“Galra.” Keith said habitually.  
“Would not!” Lance squawked at the same time. “C’mon, Hunk, you know me. I would never.”

“I might.” Keith shrugged. Probably not, but if it came down to killing Lance or letting himself get eaten... he wasn’t really sure what he’d do.

“I see what you mean.” Hunk’s mom laughed, pulling Hunk’s head down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Be good, okay?”

“Of course.” Hunk smiled as he mother stepped aside, honing in on Lance.

“And you.” she said, stepping into Lance’s space and gripping him by the elbows. “You watch out for my boy, you hear?”

“I will, ma’am.” Lance nodded solemnly. Hunk’s mom pulled him into a hug, and Lance stiffened for a moment before hugging her back, burying his face in her shoulder. She gave him a forehead kiss as well when she pulled away, and Lance wiped his eyes on the ragged cuff of his hoodie sleeve. Then Hunk’s mom turned to him, and Keith tensed. She didn’t move to hug him, thank god, just placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled kindly.

“Don’t forget, Keith. You’re always welcome in our home.” she said, her voice low and sweet. Keith nodded once, jerkily, and swallowed the tightness in his throat. He wasn’t coming back here. The offer meant nothing to him. There was nothing to cry about.

“Bye.” Hunk waved as they left the driveway. Lance was still sniffling and wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve, breath hitching in that way that meant he was trying not to sob. It made Keith’s chest ache almost as bad as his throat. He kept his head down, breathed through his nose, and didn’t look back.


	25. Chapter 25

“No, no, dude, look.” Hunk gestured vaguely with his hands. “I’m saying no system of governance or economics can possibly last forever.”

“And I’m saying you’re wrong.” Lance crossed his arms, nearly knocking one of the cars they were passing between with his hockey stick. “A capitalistic system of mixed barter-trading and credit can work indefinitely-”

“Only if nothing changes!” Hunk said, throwing his hands in the air. “And change is part of human nature, so that ain’t gonna happen. Keith, man, back me up on this.” he looked over his shoulder, and stopped walking. Keith had been trailing behind them all day, but now he was a lot further back than he’d been a few minutes ago. “Keith?”

Keith opened his mouth, closed it with a frown, then opened it again. Before he could speak, though, his eyes fluttered shut and he crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Keith!” Hunk yelled, turning on his heel and bolting for his friend. Lance got there first, gathering Keith up in his arms.

“He’s burning up.” he gasped, snatching his hand away after only a second of contact with Keith’s forehead.

“Keith? Keith, wake up.” Hunk said, grasping his friend’s hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid. They should’ve borrowed a kitchen knife to feed Lance. Biting Keith directly had put the virus in his system. But it had only been a week since then. He’d been perfectly fine for almost two!

Keith groaned and curled in on himself, turning to face Lance’s chest. “S’rry.” he mumbled into the fabric. “Jus’ need t’-”

“You need to rest.” Lance said firmly, arms locking in place around Keith as Hunk dropped to his knees next to them, reaching out to feel his friend’s skin for himself. Sure enough, Keith’s ever-warm skin was burning hot. He was dying. He had the Project G.A.L.R.A. virus in his system and he was _dying_.

“What should we do?” he asked, looking from Keith’s face to Lance’s.

“I-” he shook his head, holding Keith closer to his chest. “We keep moving.” he said, voice strong and sure. “Take turns carrying him until we find somewhere to hole up for a few days.”

“C’n walk.” Keith mumbled, and Hunk brushed a limp strand of hair behind his ear.

“It’s okay.” he said softly, letting his palm rest against Keith’s burning cheek. “I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

Keith groaned, but didn’t complain as Hunk pulled him from Lance’s arms. He was heavier than he looked, all dense lean muscle, and Hunk draped Keith’s arms over his shoulders gently. Piggyback might be the more energy efficient method, but he’d have to wear his backpack on his front and that’d just be awkward. So sloth carry it was, Keith’s head resting heavily on his shoulder and breaths hot on his neck. His entire body was warm, and when Hunk stood he made a small, stifled sound of pain.

“It’s alright.” Lance said, brushing some of Keith’s hair out of his face. “Me an’ Hunk will find good a place for you to lie down and rest, just you wait and see.”

“‘M fine.” Keith mumbled, and Hunk sighed. This was going to be a long day.

\---

Hunk woke to the sound of pitiful whimpers, and instinctively pulled the human furnace in front of him closer. Keith didn’t feel like he was on fire anymore, but Hunk had a sick certainty that it was only because he’d been leeching heat off of him for however long they’d been asleep. Keith’s exhales shook, his inhales sounding strained, and Hunk made soft shushing noises as he rubbed circles on his friend’s back. A gentle hand brushing Keith’s bangs back from his sweaty face quieted him, and he leaned into the touch with another whimpery sound that sounded more like relief than pain.

It had already been two days since Keith collapsed, and the unnatural bruising had covered nearly all of his skin. His eyes, on the rare occasion they fluttered open, were glazed and sickly yellow. Hunk was sure his fever hadn’t been this bad when he was turning. He remembered being a lot more lucid, and still able to move around fairly freely until the last day or so. Was it because his injury had healed first? Or, his stomach turned as the traitorous thought wormed its way to the front of his mind, was it because Keith was _dying_ dying? Sure he was bruised and golden-eyed, but what if he came back as a normal zombie? They had no idea what made them special, and what if Keith didn’t have whatever it was that he and Lance shared...

“Hunk?” Lance sat up, blanket pulled tight around his shoulders as he blinked blearily at them from the front bench of the van they’d found to sleep in. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Hunk said quickly, blinking hard and pulling back enough to properly look at Keith’s bruised face. “Just- he’s dying.”

Lance made a sympathetic sound, and clambered over the back of the seat to come curl up behind Hunk. “But he’ll be okay.” he said gently, body cool as he pressed up against Hunk’s back through the insulating fabric of the doublewide sleeping bag Hunk had made by zipping his and Keith’s bags together. “I mean, just look at us. We died, and we’re okay.”

“But what if he’s not?” Hunk asked, voice wavering as he turned onto his back, pulling Keith with so his friend’s head was pillowed on his chest. “What if he’s so sick because he’s _not_ going to get better like we did?” he met Lance’s eyes, gold and green with pupils far too small for the dark interior of the van. “I don’t-”

“Me neither.” Lance said, his voice low and soft. He shuddered, and sat up to curl his knees towards his chest. “Sorry, I can’t-” he shook his head, and exhaled heavily. “He smells so good.”

“I know.” Hunk groaned, tilting his head back and staring at the sliver of sky visible through the cracked-open rear doors. They hadn’t seen a living human aside from Keith since leaving Evans, and Hunk was starting to feel that gnawing hunger again. It was worse than before, though, because now he knew what it felt like to be sated, and Keith had willingly let Lance bite into him before... no. Hunk shook his head. No, that would be wrong. He’d endured the hunger before, he could endure it again. He wouldn’t hurt Keith.

“I don’t know how you do it, man.” Lance sighed, scooting on his butt towards the rear doors.

“Well, you know me.” Hunk chuckled. Lance rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he scooted over to the doors and pushed one of them open, letting a swell of cool night air into the van. The fresh air was a relief, and Hunk breathed deeply, head clearing a little bit. Why hadn’t they left the doors open in the first place? Keith whimpered and twitched in his sleep, pressing closer to Hunk’s chest, and he grimaced. Right, because Keith was sick.

“I’m gonna sit watch outside.” Lance said softly, and Hunk nodded as the door shut behind him. Hopefully Keith was too out of it to be in pain. That was really the best they could hope for, at this point.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck, this was supposed to go up at 7, not the one that did. There won't be a 10 o'clock update, sorry bout that.

Hunk and Lance were talking. They were talking, and it was way louder than necessary, aggravating his headache. Keith groaned, and immediately regretted it because _ow_. He debated whether or not to open his eyes, and decided against it. He could feel warm sunlight on his face, his sleeping bag wrapped around his body, a gentle breeze that indicated they were somewhere outside. And, surprisingly, not that much pain. His head was pounding, and his body felt sore like he’d just gone ten rounds with a tank, but his arm didn’t hurt anymore where Lance had bitten him. He made an experimental fist, and a grin flickered over his face when his whole limb responded normally. Finally, he had two working arms again!

Lance and Hunk were talking- no, arguing about something a short distance away, and even though everything was far too loud Keith couldn’t make out what they were saying. He turned away from the sunlight as much as he was able and squinted his eyes open. It was painfully bright, like midday rather than early morning. Why had they let him sleep so late? They should’ve been moving hours ago. He pushed himself more or less upright, and couldn’t help letting out a small sound of pain as his stomach gurgled. How long had he been out? It felt like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Keith!” Hunk cried, and before Keith could disentangle himself from his sleeping bag enough to move strong arms were around him. “Keith, you’re okay!”

“More or less.” Keith chuckled drily, grimacing as he spoke. This light wasn’t doing his head any favours, but a quick glance around revealed no substantial shade visible down either direction of the highway. That, didn’t add up. There had been scattered cars all the way to the horizon last he checked.

“How you feeling, buddy?” Lance asked, kneeling opposite Hunk and placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Headachey, but otherwise good.” his stomach growled at him again, and he pressed his hand to it with a wince. “Except for the part where I’m hungry enough to eat a horse. How long was I out?”

Hunk pulled back enough to exchange a look with Lance, then his hand wrapped around Keith’s own. Lance’s slipped into the other one, fingers sliding between Keith’s and squeezing gently. “You don’t remember?” Lance asked, blue eyes wide.

“Remember what?” Keith frowned. His head was seriously killing him, and plus the hunger he wasn’t really in the mood to play guessing games.

“You were out for four days.” Hunk said, gripping Keith’s hand tighter. “We’ve been carrying you.”

“Oh. Thanks, Hunk.” Keith returned the pressure on his hand. The headache was ebbing slightly now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, still painful enough to be annoying but no longer enough to be debilitating.

“Hey, I carried you too.” Lance huffed, jabbing Keith in the ribs.

“I doubt it.” Keith said flatly. Lance was barely taller than him, and so skinny he almost definitely weighed less. Hunk had a good three inches and a hundred odd pounds of muscle on him. “Twig like you couldn’t support my weight for any length of time worth measuring.”

“Okay fine Hunk did most of the carrying but I cradled you in my arms!” Lance cried out. Keith winced at the sudden burst of volume as lance released his hand to throw his own arms up and out in exasperation. “You’ve at least gotta remember that, right?”

“Nope.” Keith shook his head, rubbing at his temple where the ache was worst with his free hand. The last thing he remembered was walking behind Lance and Hunk on a nondescript stretch of highway. That whole day had been kinda fuzzy, actually.

“You’re an asshole, y’know that?” Lance huffed, crossing his arms.

Keith shrugged. He’d been called worse.

“Lance, don’t be rude.” Hunk laughed, holding Keith’s hand tighter. “He was sick.” Hunk leaned closer and pulled Keith into a hug gentle enough it didn’t aggravate his aching body in the slightest, face pressing into the crook of his neck. “I’m so glad you’re better now.” he mumbled, his voice low and soothing.

“Better is a relative term, babe.” Lance said, draping himself against Keith’s side and resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Most people wouldn’t count dead as ‘better’.”

Wait, dead? Keith looked down at his free arm, and sucked a breath in through his teeth. It was purple, shirt sleeve to fingertip. Livid, bruised purple covered every inch of skin he could see, and presumably also every inch he couldn’t. That would explain the ache, and why Lance and Hunk didn’t feel cool to the touch. “Holy fuck.” he breathed, and Lance chuckled.

“Did you really only just notice?” he grinned against Keith’s ear.

“You guys were being very distracting.” Keith huffed, trying to look away but only managing to press his cheek against Hunk’s chin.

“Oh, darlin’, you haven’t seen me be distracting yet.” Lance smirked, pressing a kiss to Keith’s neck and sliding a hand around to drag down Keith’s chest.

“Whoa, whoa.” Keith flailed, digging his elbow into Lance’s ribs and pulling his other hand free of Hunk’s so he could plant it on the asphalt and pivot around it. His legs were still wrapped up in his sleeping bag, which seriously limited his range of motion, but Hunk was on his side and Lance looked more confused than anything else. “I get that it’s okay for you to flirt with other people, and your relationship isn’t really my business, but don’t you think feeling me up in front of your boyfriend is a _little_ far?”

Lance blinked at Keith, then looked over Keith’s shoulder at Hunk for a second, then looked back to Keith. “I thought you said you were fine with sharing.” he frowned, lips pursing and eyebrows drawing together. “Did I get that wrong?”

Keith spluttered, and Hunk chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Keith’s stomach. “What Lance means is, he wants to share you too. He thinks you’re pretty.”

“Except for the mullet.” Lance interjected with a grin as Keith looked between them in disbelief. “Shit went out of style decades ago, man. I shoulda asked Hunk’s aunt to chop it off as a public service.”

“My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.” Keith scowled.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Hunk sighed, his arm tightening around Keith’s waist and pressing on the bruises there. “Keith, Lance and I both like you, and if you like both of us, well, I can’t think of any reason we wouldn’t be able to make it work.”

Keith looked up over his shoulder at Hunk. Hunk his first, best friend. Hunk who had saved his life more times than he could remember. Hunk who had, somehow, fallen in something like love with him even with Lance right there being so much better at everything a relationship needed. Communication, emotions, hell he was even better looking. And thinking of Lance, Keith looked back at the man himself. Kneeling there on the asphalt, yellowed blue eyes bright in the sunlight and focused on Keith like they could see right into his soul. How the hell had Lance fallen for him when strong, kind, perfect Hunk was right there?

It didn’t make sense, didn’t add up, didn’t compute. Hunk and Lance were smitten with each other, he’d been travelling with them long enough to see that for himself. Hunk liking him as a close friend was hard enough to believe already, but both of them? Wanting to date him?? This must be a crazy fever dream or something. “Am I dreaming?” he asked, looking between them again, searching for something that didn’t look right.

“Um, no?” Lance frowned, then his face split in a grin. “Wait, do you mean you’ve literally dreamed about this? Because that’s adorable. Like, seriously, hella cute. I know I’m dreamy but this is-”

Keith kicked Lance in the gut, and Hunk sighed.

“Could you two please not fight?” he asked, sounding almost resigned.

“I didn’t even hit him back yet!” Lance complained, gesturing at Keith indignantly.

“And you’re not going to, because he’s still bruised up from the transformation.” Hunk said, gently wrapping his arms around Keith in a protective hug. “Also our boyfriend. Unless you don’t want to be?” Hunk looked down at him, and Keith felt himself blushing. How that worked when he didn’t have a beating heart, he’d love to know.

“Are you sure you want me to be?” he asked, looking from Hunk’s soft, dark eyes to Lance’s sharp blue ones. Better to make them realize what a mistake this would be now than let himself get used to having something which would inevitably torn out from under him. Less pain for all of them, that way.

“Of course!” Hunk took one of his hands, his grip careful but sure. “Keith, we wouldn’t’ve asked you to date us unless we were sure.”

“Well, Hunk wouldn’t’ve.” Lance interjected, scooting closer until his knees were pressed against Keith’s. “I’m impulsive as fuck. If you and I had met before I got with Hunk, I probably would’ve tried dating you.” he grinned briefly, then tilted his head. “Or, well, maybe not. Mullet.” he reached out and tugged on some of the hair that framed Keith’s face. Keith punched him in the arm.

“Rude.” Lance huffed, rubbing the point of impact with a pout. “But seriously, I think you’re hot and Hunk thinks you’re hot shit. Why wouldn’t we wanna date you?”

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it and looked down as Hunk pulled him into his lap for a more encompassing hug. His throat felt too tight suddenly, tight enough that it hurt to breathe. How was he supposed to look at that stupid, earnest face and slit himself open to reveal everything wrong inside him? He couldn’t do that, not to either of them.

“Keith?” Hunk’s dry fingers brushed under his eyes, and Keith’s breath caught in his throat ashe realized he was crying. Fuck, this was why he hated opening up to people. The second he slipped up, they were gone and he felt like such an idiot for assuming they wanted him around in the first place. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hunk’s voice was soothing, and Keith’s breath hitched in something dangerously close to a sob as he was turned sideways in his friend’s lap and pulled close like a child.

“Aww, babe.” Lance said softly, pressing up against his other side and running a hand through his filthy hair. “We love you.” soft, smooth lips pressed to his cheek, kissing away his tears. “Te amamos para siempre.”

Keith choked on another sob as Lance kissed the edge of his mouth, and let Hunk work one of his fists open to hold his hand. “We won’t leave you.” he whispered, nuzzling into Keith’s hair. “I promise.”

Keith turned towards Hunk and gripped his shirt with his free hand, drawing deep, painful, shuddering breaths that came back out as ragged sobs. He wanted to believe them, wanted it so bad it hurt, but he just-

“Please, Keith.” Lance breathed in his ear, his breath no warmer than the gentle breeze. “Let us love you?” his forehead rested against the side of Keith’s skull, and Keith struggled to draw enough breath for a coherent response. It hurt, knowing that they were willing to lie to him, but maybe... maybe he could let himself believe it, while it lasted.

“Okay.” he gasped, pressing his forehead to Hunk’s collarbone . “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I- I really don’t know where this came from. This was supposed to be a happy chapter. And I can’t even blame Lance this time!


	27. Chapter 27

Lance leaned back against the side of the off-ramp, looking up at the stars. It was still a little weird, being able to see them from anywhere, but he liked it. No matter how fucked up and crazy things got on the ground, the stars would always be the same. And man oh man, had things gotten fucked up and crazy down here. He was dead, his platonic boyfriend was dead, their new mutual boyfriend was _also_ dead, and the three of them were still fine. A little hungry, yeah, but otherwise fine. Everything had changed, and still the stars shone down. God, he missed his mom. Mom, Mama, Amalia, Viv, Fernanda, Salome, Isidora. He could put it out of mind during the day, busy himself with surviving and enjoying his boyfriends’ company, but at night, under the stars like this... he missed them.

“Hey, Lance?” Hunk spoke up, apparently done explaining the plot, premise, and pitfalls of Twilight to Keith.

“Hmm?” Lance didn’t look down, choosing instead to keep looking at the stars. He could probably find a few planets or constellations, if he tried.

“I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now, but...” Hunk paused, and Lance looked down to see his platonic boyfriend wearing a somber expression. His stomach clenched, anxiety rising like bile in his throat.

“Wondering what?” he asked, managing to fake nonchalance pretty well if he did say so himself.

“Why aren’t you with your family?”

Lance’s mouth went dry, breath catching and sticking in his throat. Of course Hunk would think to ask that. Hunk knew how much he loved his moms and siblings, knew that he’d been with them when shit hit the fan, knew he would’ve stayed with them to the end rather than leave and be the last one standing. Fuck, why hadn’t he thought of anything to say? He’d known this would happen eventually if he stayed but- he hadn’t thought he’d be able to stay. Even with the way Hunk looked at him, joked with him, clung to his hand overnight when they both wrapped around Keith’s warmth, part of him had kept whispering that Hunk might still get bored of him.

“Lance?” Keith’s eyebrows were drawing together, and Lance’s stomach did a flip in his chest. Keith was scrutinizing him, iris indistinguishable from pupil in the moonlight. He got the feeling that his new boyfriend knew more than he let on, saw chinks in Lance’s armour that Hunk was too kind to examine.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Lance said, turning his head aside and looking along the ramp which lead up to the highway.

“Lance, did something happen?” Hunk’s tone was pure concern, and Lance felt a sick giggle trying to bubble free of his lips. Something had happened, alright. Something he would rather never think about again.

“It’s nothing.” he insisted, tracing the curve of the highway with his eyes. He couldn’t look at his boyfriends right now. He knew the expressions they would be wearing, could practically see Hunk’s without even closing his eyes, and to face them would almost certainly bring him to tears. He didn’t deserve their compassion, not after everything he’d done.

“Obviously not.” Keith sounded like he was frowning, though honestly he usually was. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have a problem talking about it.”

Sometimes, Lance really hated logic.

“Lance, please.” he saw Hunk coming closer in his peripheral vision, and felt a wide hand rest gently on his knee. “You know you can talk to us, right?”

Lance swallowed around the tightness in his throat, and nodded once. He could talk, but then Hunk would leave. He leave, and Keith would go with him because Keith was a good person. God, he shouldn’t’ve agreed to travel with them. They both deserved so much better.

“Lance, what happened to your family?” Hunk’s voice was soft, coaxing, and Lance sucked in a breath through his teeth. He couldn’t think fast enough to get himself out of this, and now that Hunk had figured it out he wouldn’t just let it drop for good. Better to go out on his own terms. As long as _he_ left them, he could tell himself it was his own choice later. It would be a cold comfort, but better than living the rest of his un-life knowing he’d fucked up the best thing he’d ever had.

“ **I** happened.” Lance said, snapping his head around to meet Hunk’s eyes. “I died, and came back, and when I got hungry I blacked out and _murdered_ my own family.” he stood, hands clenching into fists as he remembered waking up, his skin one giant purple bruise painted red-brown with drying blood.

“Oh, shit.” Keith murmured, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Lance gritted his teeth, inhaling sharply and holding it until he could exhale through his nose without choking. “I’ll see myself out.” he said drily, grabbing his bag as he passed it and slinging it over one shoulder. “Take care of him for me, okay Keith?” he didn’t look back over his shoulder. If he had, the hand fastening around his wrist like iron would’ve been less surprising.

“You can’t just say that shit and leave!” Keith snapped, yanking Lance around by the wrist and glaring at him.

“Yes, I can.” Lance said, glaring right back and pulling his wrist free. Or at least, he tried to pull his wrist free. Keith’s grip was stronger than he’d thought. “Let go.”

“No.” Keith’s grip tightened, pressure now reflecting the strength of his hold. “You’re going to sit down with us, and you’re gonna tell us what happened.”

“I could shoot you right now.” Lance said, the steadiness of his voice surprising him. He never felt this steady when he was hunting. “I could put the barrel of my pistol to your forehead and pull the trigger. It’d be easy. I’ve done it before.” Keith’s eyes widened, and Lance inhaled as deeply as he could manage. A reason, he needed a reason Hunk wouldn’t fight. “So you’re going to let go of my wrist, and I’m going to leave before I hurt either of you.” there, self-preservation oughtta do it. Keith’s hand loosened, and Lance pulled it free as he stepped back.

“I’m sorry.” he said, pulling his hand towards his chest as he stepped back, eyes drifting from Keith’s face to meet Hunk’s eyes over his shoulder. The pressure in his chest and throat, momentarily relieved while freeing himself from Keith, was back with a vengeance. “You deserve him.” he said, not quite sure which of them he’d been addressing as he turned and started towards the highway at a brisk walk. He’d take the cross-street, the one they’d taken the ramp down from, and strike out in a random direction. He didn’t strictly need to sleep, and the open road didn’t have enough zombies on it to justify bunking down overnight when he was alone.

“How’re we supposed to help if you won’t talk to us?!” Keith yelled after him, and Lance froze. He didn’t mean that. Just wanted- wanted to what, draw Lance back so they could dump him? Keith was pissy and moody sometimes, but he wasn’t _that_ cruel.

“And what does that even mean, ‘You deserve him’?” Hunk asked, his voice much closer than Keith’s. “I tried to _kill_ him.” Hunk’s hand fastened around his wrist, and Lance turned without prompting.

“You weren’t in your right mind.” he said, not bothering to try taking his hand back. Hunk could manhandle him with ease even before gaining inhuman strength, there was no way he was getting free before Hunk let him go.

“And you were?” Hunk challenged as Keith came up beside him. “Just, sit down, okay?” Hunk sighed, his grip loosening. “Tell us what happened, and we can tell you if it was your fault.”

Keith dropped a pair of backpacks with an unceremonious thump, fell into a cross-legged sit next to them, and looked at Lance expectantly. Lance sighed and freed his hand, dropping his bag as well and sitting on it, knees up near his chest. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning?” Keith suggested sarcastically. Lance rolled his eyes.

“How about with, well, how you died.” Hunk said, sitting next to Lance with one knee bent out along the ground and one bent up.

How he died? Lance tasted blood and bile in his mouth, strong as the day it first happened, and he nodded. He could start with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was originally supposed to be 27 chapters, but this chapter kinda... exploded. So now it's 29!


	28. Chapter 28

Lance wrapped his arms around his legs and hunched forward, resting his chin on his knees. “We were in Florida, at my uncle’s place.” he said softly. “It’s in this tourist town, so there were lots of college kids. Plenty of cute girls in tiny bikinis.” he grinned, but it felt weak and he let it flicker out after a second. “We thought we were far enough from the big cities to be safe, but one day it was like-” he shuddered, the terrified screams echoing in his head.

“Like hell exploded.” Keith said simply.

“Yeah. Like that.” Lance nodded. “We ran for Tio’s place, and Amalia got grabbed ‘round the ankle.” Lance squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to will away the technicolour memories playing behind his eyelids. “I kicked it off her, but by the time we reached the back door there were zombies-”

“Galra.”

Lance glared at Keith, who held up his hands. “Sorry, reflex. Won’t do it again.” he grinned sheepishly.

“Anyways. There were like five zombies right on our heels. We couldn’t get in the door without letting them in too, but Tio’s beach volleyball stuff was lying out on the deck so Amalia just grabbed a section of one net leg and knocked a zombie in the head.” Lance grinned. “I grabbed a tennis racket and got one in the jaw, but the one behind it lunged and got its teeth in me.” he rubbed at his neck, a shudder running through him at the memory of shaking hands on it, trying to stem the bleeding. Hunk... Hunk didn’t need to know that. “I passed out, and next thing I knew I was waking up in bed.” Lance lowered his hand from his neck, reminding himself that he wouldn’t find a pulse no matter how much he looked.

“Mom called it a miracle. We didn’t want to think about it too much, just thanked God and fortified the house.” Lance curled his fingers in his sleeves, and glanced up at his audience. Hunk was watching him with a soft look that made his insides contract painfully. Hunk was too good for him, had always been too good for him even before all this. Keith’s gaze was no easier to handle, though, staring at Lance with a nearly frightening intensity. Lance looked back at the dirt in front of his toes pretty quick, and drew a shaking breath before continuing. “We were all so happy I was still me, we ignored the signs. And then, after a week, I blacked out.” his hands were shaking where they gripped his sleeves, his whole body trembling as he remembered.

“Lance, you don’t-”

“I was out for three and a half hours.” he said over Hunk, talking faster now. He had to get this out, had to make them understand why he needed to leave. “I woke up covered in blood and gore and-” his breath caught in his throat, and he exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t hungry anymore. My moms, my siblings, my uncle, they all had bites taken out of them. Sometimes more than one.” he opened his mouth to describe the scene, Salome been pinned under Fernanda like his big sister had been protecting his younger sibling. His uncle’s hand had been wedged between the boards holding the door shut, like he’d been trying to rip them off with his bare hands. The look of confusion frozen on Amalia’s face, the way his moms had been slumped next to each other, tiny Vivian sprawled in a puddle of her own blood on the kitchen tile like a doll somebody had flung carelessly to the floor.

“I ran.” he gasped instead, unable to force a description out of his mouth. “I didn’t even try to give them a burial, I just- I ran away.” he wrapped his arms tight around his legs, pressing his knees against his chest. “I tried to die.” he admitted, his voice coming out very small and weak. Hunk made a sound of pain and concern, and Lance tensed for a moment as the touch on his shoulder before slumping into his boyfriend’s one-armed hug. “I threw myself into any horde I could find, but I always-” his voice hitched, and he took a quick, deep breath before continuing but it still sounded tight. “I always woke up.”

“Lance.” Keith said, voice soft and pained and much closer than Lance had been expecting. He kept his head down, and drew another shuddering breath. He had to finish the story, had to make them understand.

“I don’t know how long it was, since I kept blacking out and losing time, but one day the mob I tried to die by had killed someone.” even with her throat torn out and head cracked open, she’d been beautiful. She’d looked like Isidora at first glance, and then he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look closer. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to eat her, but I was so _hungry_.” his stomach growled, sharply reminding him that he hadn’t fed since those two bites out of Keith’s arm what felt like forever ago.

“I liked it. I ate raw human flesh and I _liked_ it. It tasted better than Mom’s cooking, better than your cooking.” he lifted his head to look at Hunk, and found his boyfriend sitting almost pressed to his side, legs both folded sideways now, his face full of pity. Why was Hunk pitying him? He should be deriding Lance right now, mocking him for giving in so easily, for cracking when he’d travelled side by side with a live, hot-blooded friend for almost a month without taking a single bite of human flesh.

“Lance?” Keith’s hand landed over his own, and he turned his head to look at his other boyfriend. “Do you need a hug?”

Lance opened his mouth to snap that what he needed was for them to let him leave, but all that came out was a pitiful noise far too close to a sob. Keith leaned in, and strong wiry arms wrapped around Lance’s chest. Hunk’s arms enveloped him next, and Lance clung to their forearms as he struggled not to sob.

“It’s okay.” Hunk murmured, nuzzling into his hair. “Let it all out, we won’t judge.”

Lance hung in his boyfriends’ dual embrace, gripped their arms tightly, and after three whole months he allowed himself to mourn.


	29. Chapter 29

For the first time since dying, Keith was glad he didn’t have a heartbeat. If blood had been circulating, his legs would’ve gone numb ages ago. Lance had finally stopped shaking, though, which was a good thing. Probably. Hunk was still murmuring words of comfort to him, and his tears were slowing, so the lack of shaking was a good thing.

“I’m gonna get our sleeping bags.” he said softly, extricating himself from the hug and scooting over to where he’d dropped his and Hunk’s bags. The double-bag unrolled as he dragged it back towards his boyfriends, a word he never thought he’d get to use in the singular let alone plural, and he went back for the backpacks. Hunk and Lance has already slid inside by the time he returned, Lance’s head pillowed on his bag and Hunk’s on his own arm.

Keith looked at the bag for a moment, then mentally shrugged as he stuffed Hunk’s bag under his head. It wasn’t like they had to worry about overheating. He put his backpack next to Lance’s, kicked off his boots, and wriggled into the space between the edge of the bag and Lance’s back.

“Promise?” Lance sniffled, squeezing closer to Hunk and giving Keith the space to get comfortable. One of his legs hooked around Lance at the ankle, one of his arms under Lance’s neck and down under his shirt, the other arm over Lance’s waist.

“Promise.” Hunk whispered, arms flexing against Keith’s chest as he hugged Lance tight.

“What’re we promising?” Keith asked, nuzzling at Lance’s shoulder blade.

“That I won’t be alone.” Lance said after a brief silence, his voice small and weak in a way that made Keith’s ribs constrict painfully around his heart.

“Only if you promise something too.” Keith said after a second of thought, pressing himself tighter to Lance’s back and putting more pressure into his hold. “Promise you won’t talk about leaving us again.”

“I won’t.” Lance shook his head, words coming out somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Good.” Keith nodded once. “We’re not leaving you for anything, but that only works if you’re not gonna leave either.” he paused, then pressed a gentle kiss to Lance’s neck.

“I won’t.” Lance sniffled, pressing forwards and probably burying his face in Hunk’s chest. “I won’t leave. I’m so sorry I tried to.”

“Why’d you do that, anyways?” Hunk asked, rubbing small circles into Lance’s back. “Try to run. You know we love you too much to run you out over that kinda stuff.”

“I know.” Lance mumbled, his voice muffled by Hunk’s shirt. “But if I left before you found out...”

“It’d be your choice.” Keith finished when Lance trailed off. Lance nodded, and Keith made a soft sound low in his throat as he nuzzled against the nape of his boyfriend’s neck. He knew that feeling all too well, the terrible insidious voice that whispered they were just keeping him around until they got bored and it would be less painful for everyone in the long run if he just left now. He was learning to ignore those thoughts, but that was because he knew they were unfounded. Lance’s fears had been very real, very well founded. Keith couldn’t fault him for trying to maintain some semblance of agency over his life.

“Well, now we know.” Hunk said after a minute of silence. “And we’re choosing to keep you.” Hunk’s grin was as audible as the ‘oof’ Lance let out when he was squished even harder to Hunk’s chest, and Keith couldn’t help but smile. He was functionally immortal, he had not one but _two_ equally immortal boyfriends, and nothing but perma-death would separate them. The world at large may have gone completely to shit, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to mind. Not when it had brought him more happiness than he’d had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaan, that's a wrap! Thank you to everyone who read this story, and thank you to [the mod](http://queenmogar117.tumblr.com) who ran this big bang all on her own.


End file.
